Killing Strangers: Apostate
by cswang
Summary: Companion/Epilogue to Killing Strangers: Trying to get out, Rizzi and Wu have left their employers in a storm of bloodshed. All they have to do is survive an open contract on their lives for a week. No problem, right? If only things were so simple. Rated M for violence, language, mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

This is a follow-up piece to _Killing Strangers_ that grew beyond the original, single chapter I'd had in mind. As essentially an extended epilogue, it goes without saying that if you haven't read _Killing Strangers_ , this one won't make very much sense.

I've also tried to integrate some of the larger events of _Killing Strangers_ with the events of _John Wick: Chapter Two_ by assuming a larger gap in time between the first and second film. Rather than a four day period, in this setting _Chapter Two_ occurs several months later. Susan's meeting with Wick in Chapter 28 of _Killing Strangers_ takes place right before Wick goes to recover his car in the opening of _Chapter Two._

When things fall apart, they fall apart hard.

 **One**

They got off the plane and somebody tried to kill them.

The private hangar sat away from the big commercial terminals while the whine and roar of jet engines from all the taxying planes served to cover noise. At least their assailants had the decency to wait until they'd moved away from the plane, although she suspected the emblem on the side of the vehicle played the largest part there.

Nobody smart wanted to open fire on a Continental asset.

Susan Rizzi and Elijah Wu had just gotten to the edge of the hangar when the pair of men in maintenance coveralls stepped around the corner, pushing a janitor's cart. The guy in the lead moved with a surety of purpose that had nothing to do with sweeping up the hangar floor. He swung the broom he carried towards her. Susan parried, grunting as the broomstick smacked off her forearms. The other man reached down into the garbage bin on the cart as Elijah lunged for him.

Susan stepped close, seizing the broom and twisting it up and aside as she swept a foot through the man's ankles. She heard Elijah wrestling with his attacker. Two short, sharp _pops_ of suppressed pistol fire sounded. Susan took her own guy down to the ground, hooking her feet around his shoulder joint as she leveraged the broomstick to pin his arms. Another _pop_ came from nearby, along with the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Elijah lunged over her in a crouch, pressed the muzzle of his pistol against her attacker's head, and ended the fight. Susan kicked the body away and rose to her feet. She glanced around, scanning their surroundings as Elijah did the same, their backs against each other. Nothing but the lights of the airport, planes taking off or landing, and the impassive pilot of the Continental plane standing at the foot of the short staircase by the plane door.

The pilot waited another second, looking around himself, before strolling over. "Is there a destination you'd like your luggage sent to?" he asked in a crisp British accent, ignoring the scuffle and bodies.

"The hotel for now, please," said Susan.

"Of course."

Elijah fished out a gold coin from his pocket. "And if it's not too much trouble, a dinner reservation for these two."

"Consider it done." The pilot took the coin as he drew a phone from his vest pocket. He gave them a smile. "I appreciate you not damaging the plane. Do try to limit the collateral damage in the days ahead, yes? Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks."

The pair of would-be former assassins hurried from the hangar, crossing the tarmac towards the terminals. They clutched the bags they'd carried on; Susan had one hand tucked inside a leather flap, clutching the grip of her carbine. "I understand it's a formality," she said, "but a quarter-mil for our heads feels awfully personal."

"It could be worse," Elijah said, his head panning around as he scanned with every step.

"Yeah, it could." She nodded as the chill of the night air set in. Susan wondered if the impact of the whirlwind changes in her life just hadn't set in yet; her employer had been dead for eighteen hours – at her hand, and now she was on the run with the man who should have been her last target.

Susan looked north, to where the lights of the city glittered.

Elijah noticed her gaze. "Welcome to San Francisco."

* * *

This branch of the Continental took the form of a narrow, needle-like tower, thin and angular like a spike thrusting into the sky. In contrast to the Manhattan branch Susan was more familiar with, the entrance and lobby here had panels of digital screens cycling through artworks and designs, gently glowing spiraling tubes, and lighting that faded between warm and cool tones in alternating rhythms, like breath misting on cold glass.

The front desk was a pedestal of dark glass polished to a mirror shine. The concierge behind it reminded her strongly of Charon; slim and with skin as dark as black coffee. He gave her a quick once-over, and then turned his gaze on Elijah. "Mister Wu. It has been a while."

"Yes it has," said Elijah.

"A joint room," said the concierge as he took the gold coin they passed over. "Not your usual, sir."

"Things change," Elijah replied.

"Indeed they do." The concierge arched an eyebrow at them. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you about the establishment's policies on crossing over?"

"No," said Susan. "We're just passing through."

He nodded. "Will there be anything else, then?"

"Is the Sommelier in?"

* * *

"Come in, come in!" The Sommelier smiled as she set a bottle of wine back into its rack. She turned to greet Susan and Elijah, a tablet held in one hand. The Sommelier here was a statuesque Latina woman, wearing a trim, black business suit and skirt combination. She tapped at the tablet and the rack of wine retracted into the ceiling with a smooth whir of motors, revealing a wall of backlit weapons. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm looking for a replacement carry gun," Susan said, stepping forward.

"Let me see what I can do." The Sommelier browsed her tablet for several moments. "Miss Rizzi," she said, half to herself. "Not a Glock girl, I see. Ergonomics? Trigger? Aesthetics?"

"Call it all of the above," Susan said, grinning.

"You were carrying a VP9. Lose it somewhere?"

"I… had an incident, yes."

"That appears to be underselling it. Alright. It looks like you're also fond of CZ's products. And B&T… my, my, you enjoy the finer things, don't you?" The Sommelier stepped over to a counter and hit a button underneath; the counter split open to reveal rows of handguns. "A nine-millimeter woman… I suggest you give this a try," she said, lifting one of them out. "I'm afraid I can't do much on the aesthetic front, but…"

Susan took the offered firearm, checked its chamber to verify empty.

"The latest striker-fired offering from CZ," said the Sommelier. "The quality and reliability one should demand from a quality tool. Of course, it offers many of the standard features. Cold hammer forged barrel, reinforced polymer frame, interchangeable backstraps. Fifteen plus one magazine capacity."

"The trigger?" asked Susan.

"Factory average of four pounds pull." She smiled at Susan's glance. "Give it a try."

Susan did, dry-firing the weapon and paying attention to the trigger. Crisp, clean, and smooth. She racked the slide to reset the internals and eased the tension on the trigger until it reset. Short and sweet. She smiled. "Fantastic."

"Isn't it?" The Sommelier's smile grew. "It's a remarkably smooth shooter, too. A gentle recoil impulse, very little muzzle flip. Highly recommended."

Susan stared down at the gun in her hand, felt the weight of it in her grip. It felt so natural to her; even when they were trying to get out of this world. Well, first they had to survive a week of open contracts on their heads. So be it. She looked up. "I'll take it."

"Have you a preference for muzzle devices? Compensators? Suppressors?"

"Suppressors, please."

"Will standard half by twenty-eight threading do?"

"That's fine."

"Excellent. And will you be needing to accessorize?"

"Afraid so."

"A woman should never be ashamed of accessorizing," the Sommelier said. "Along with the items, I'll have the Cooper sent up to your room. I think you'll find we have the finest leather in the city."

Susan frowned quizzically. "What-"

"Don't ask," Elijah said while the Sommelier merely continued smiling, catlike.

"Forget I said anything then," said Susan. "I appreciate it."

"Anything else?" the Sommelier asked. "Rifles? Carbine conversions? Shotguns?"

"Don't get her started on shotguns," Elijah said from where he leaned up against the wall several steps back.

"I don't hate them," Susan said. "But remember we're trying to get _out_ , not look for even more firefights."

"Are you?" The Sommelier looked between them both with a wistful smile. "How interesting. I wish you luck."

"Thanks," said Susan. "I have a feeling we'll need it."

* * *

The elevator going up to their room was a smooth, tubular cylinder of chrome surfaces and touchscreen controls. It rose with a quiet hum. "We can't stay here for long," Susan said. "The rules-"

"I know," said Elijah. "We just need to get situated, find our bearings, and move on. I've got a line on an Exodus safe house in the south bay." He looked over at her for a moment. "You're not comfortable with this plan."

"I just don't know about trusting Exodus. I haven't worked with them before; we've just stayed out of each other's ways."

Elijah nodded. "I understand that."

"And it's the Exodus Railroad," she said. "If we're relying on them, how out are we, really?"

"Don't know," he admitted. "Maybe not entirely out – but maybe that's enough. Not being at the beck and call of crime bosses? Not murdering people for money?"

"Maybe it is." Susan smiled at him, then reached out and took his hand. "You're going to miss it, aren't you? The action. The adrenaline."

Elijah looked away. "Yes. I'm pretty damn screwed up."

"Well you're not alone there." She stepped closer, bringing their bodies together. "I'll miss it too."

"Second thoughts?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

"Not while I'm with you. Look, I may not know about trusting Exodus, but I trust _you._ "

Susan leaned in, brought their lips together, and let the kiss eclipse the moment, washing away the worries and fears and concerns and-

"Susan?"

They leapt apart at the sudden voice. Belatedly Susan realized the elevator had arrived and the door had opened. A woman with red-brown hair stood on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her pale face. Her gaze flicked between the couple, like tracking a target. "And you must be Elijah Wu."

"And you are?"

Susan sighed as they stepped off the elevator. "Elijah, this is Lisa Marx."

"The sharpshooter?" he said. "You're the one who closed the contract on that Seattle mogul."

"I don't like to brag," the red-haired woman said.

"Yes you do," said Susan.

Marx snorted and grinned. "That's probably true."

"You know each other?" Elijah said.

Susan found herself grinning at that. "Yeah, I'm afraid we do."

"I'm hurt." Marx's grin faded. "And _you_ have contracts on you." She glanced around and lowered her voice. "We should talk. Meet me in the lounge."

* * *

Entering the lounge felt like entering a space that managed to be open and spacious yet private and intimate. In contrast to the crowded, retro speakeasy feel of Manhattan's Continental, the lounge here opted for matte, frosted panels of dark glass and carefully selected lighting to partition the floor space up. Dark leather couches and seats formed islands of habitation. The whole thing made Susan feel like she'd entered a chiaroscuro painting. A string quartet, illuminated in one corner, filled the air with quiet classical music.

"You get drinks," she murmured to Elijah. "I'll find Marx."

"What do you want?" Elijah said. "I don't know if the mixologist here has quite the breadth Addy does."

"Yeah," Susan said, sighing. "I'm gonna miss her. She was a… friend."

"And Marx?"

"I thought so," she said. "But we'll see now, won't we?"

"I guess we will." Elijah glanced over towards the bar. "I think I'll get something really light. Pretty sure hangovers aren't a good idea right now."

"Good point," Susan said, and headed off into the lounge.

She found Lisa Marx on a low couch by a little table. The other assassin had a rocks glass before her and a leather-bound book in one hand. She glanced up at Susan's approach and nodded to the opposite couch.

Susan sank down into the seat. "I'd say it's good to see you again, Lisa, but…"

"Circumstances, yeah?" Lisa closed the book and set it down on the table. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, Susan?"

"It's not about getting _into_ things," she said.

"Uh huh. Does it have anything to do with your boy-toy?"

"My- Lisa!"

"What? You make out with any old assassin in the elevator now? I'm jealous."

"It's not like that-"

Lisa waved a hand and chuckled. "Relax. I'm not your type. I got that a while ago." She looked up as Elijah approached and sat down next to Susan, holding two Collins glasses.

"It's mostly tonic," he said to Susan.

Well, she'd agreed with something 'light.' She took it and had a sip while Lisa leaned back and crossed her legs, still looking between the two of them like she was reading a book or something.

"So," Lisa said, "what the hell's going on with you two? Why did Silver Mountain put out a contract for one its own hitters?"

Susan and Elijah glanced at each other. "That would be because of me," Susan said.

"Oh this ought to be good. I'm assuming part of it has to do with the way you were trying to reach his tonsils with your tongue? Spill. From the beginning."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Elijah asked.

Lisa spread her hands and gestured around them. "In this world? You probably can't. But if it makes you feel any better, _Eli_ , I once turned down a contract for you from Vargas."

"You what?"

"Yeah. Remember that little fracas in San Diego? You got the Exodus Railroad involved. Vargas didn't take kindly to it."

"How do you know about that?" Elijah said.

"I was in town when things went down," Lisa said. "They wanted me to hit you at the airport when you were leaving."

"And why didn't you?"

"Maybe they didn't offer me enough." Lisa shrugged. "Or maybe I don't like killing guys who risk their necks to shut down sex slavers."

Elijah sat back against the couch and crossed his arms.

"By the way, I think they didn't push the point because that mad dog of theirs wants a piece of you. So, yeah. You got that to look forward to."

"Cuhuillo's dead," said Susan.

"He is? Great! Never liked that asshole." Lisa smiled. "So. From the beginning."

"It started," Susan said, "with that contract on John Wick."

"What, this new one? I've heard the High Table's involved. I'm staying the hell out of it."

"No, the one from Viggo Tarasov."

"You didn't-" Lisa paused, rolled her eyes. "You did. Damn it, Susan, I told you not to. It's _John Wick_. The fucking boogeyman himself."

"Well, things turned out a little differently," said Susan. And with that, she and Elijah shared about the chaos Wick's actions had plunged New York into, how they'd ended up working for opposing factions in a struggle for shadow influence in the city, and how their rooms in the Continental had thrown them into proximity, then intimacy. Of how they'd been assigned to kill each other. About how they'd decided to get out of the shadow world together. And how the whole mess had ended with the discovery of their double lives by their employers, of how Susan had killed Marco Fabbro and the Silver Mountain had put a week-long contract on the both of them.

"Yeah, that sounds like Xiao Ma," Lisa said, shaking her head. "Twisted bitch. Don't get me wrong, she's a real firecracker in bed, but… woo, a little too much crazy there."

Susan stared blankly at her for a second. "You slept with- No, wait, I do not want to know."

Lisa smirked again. "So, here you are. Looking to cross over, huh? And you weren't even going to tell me."

"It was kind of a rushed decision," Susan said. "We didn't exactly have time to arrange things."

"I'm not mad. But yeah, you two need to watch your backs."

"Does that include you?" Elijah asked, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees.

"I had you in my sights once before," Lisa said. She shook her head. "I've got no interest in killing either of you. And yes, I know that doesn't mean much given the demesne we reside in. If that doesn't reassure you, then…" She looked over at Susan. "Ask your girlfriend."

Susan frowned at her in confusion, then felt her eyes widen. "You don't mean- It's not official. You know that."

"What is she talking about?" Elijah said.

"A Marker," said Lisa, staring at Susan.

"A Marker?!" Elijah looked back and forth between Lisa and Susan. He glanced around at the lounge. "You hold a Marker from her?" he said to Susan. "How did- What happened?"

"It's a long story," said Susan.

"She took out a Camorra hit team that was on my tail, then removed the jackass who'd double-crossed me in their ranks," said Lisa.

"Okay, maybe not that long." Susan shook her head. "I never asked that of you, Lisa. The Marker isn't official. It was never entered into the Continental's records. You're under no obligation."

"Bullshit." Lisa sat forward, her ponytail falling forward around her shoulder. "Just because it's not in that tome doesn't mean there isn't a debt. You hold my Marker."

"As far as the Laws are concerned-"

"So I never heard what became of the Marker. I didn't know you never entered it. And once you cross over it doesn't matter anyways. Done and done."

Warmth blossomed in Susan's chest. "Thank you, Lisa."

"No need to get sappy on me. We just need to stay out of each other's ways."

"We won't be here long," Elijah said.

"Yeah?" Lisa glanced around them, then lowered her voice. "While you're here, you may want to know: there's already somebody in the area looking for you two. You in particular, sword guy," she said, nodding at Elijah. "Yakuza guy, I think. Goes by Hiro or Hiwa or something. I'm not certain; I don't operate in Japan."

"Hirawa Tokayushi?" said Susan. She sighed. "And here after we'd shown him mercy. Ungrateful bastard."

"Pretty sure it's personal with him," Lisa said. "So you either disappear real good, or you're gonna have to deal with him."

"I think we can avoid him for a few days," Elijah said.

Lisa shrugged. "Your call."

"Thanks for the warning." Susan picked up her glass. "I _am_ glad to see you again."

"Likewise." Lisa took up her own drink and clinked it gently against Susan's. "Let's see if you can stay out of trouble this time."

* * *

The buzz of a phone jolted Susan awake. Morning light streamed in from the tall windows lining the wall of their room. Rain drizzled against the glass in slow droplets, the epitome of California winter. She sat up in the bed she shared with Elijah to see him reaching over to grab the device from the nightstand. He tapped at it for a moment.

"Oh, no. No no no."

"What is it?" Susan shifted over to look over his shoulder. The screen displayed pictures of a young Asian woman, taken from a little ways off. She seemed unaware of having her photograph taken. Some of them showed her with several people carrying backpacks and notebooks. "Who is that?"

"My cousin," Elijah said.

"The one at Peking University?"

"Yes." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, damn it. I forgot."

"About?"

"She's not in Beijing right now. She's doing an exchange program with Berkeley for a year."

Susan's eyes widened. "So she's _here_ now. Who sent the pictures?"

"Hirawa."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

"I need to extract her." Elijah leapt out of bed and went to the closet, gathering clothes and equipment.

" _We_ need to extract her," said Susan, as she unfurled herself and did likewise.

Elijah paused. "I can't ask that of you," he said. "It wouldn't be fair-"

"Hey!" She stepped close and cupped his face in her hands. "What wouldn't be fair is you running off and getting yourself killed. Remember the part where I love you? This isn't something you need to ask _of_ me, this is something I choose."

He stared into her eyes, reached up with both hands and placed them over hers. "Sorry. I'm not really used to the idea of-"

"I know. Me neither."

"Thank you," he said, his voice a whisper.

Susan smiled. "Besides, remember what happened the last time you dashed off to rescue a girl? You need me."

"Good point." He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, then stepped back and continued to grab things. "Okay, we can get across the bay relatively quickly. Most of the traffic is coming into San Francisco at this hour. It's a good bet Hirawa's watching her, so if we contact her directly that'll blow it."

"Move directly to the campus?" she said.

"I don't know what her schedule is like." Elijah shook his head. "Let's see the Librarian first, get some information."

"Hirawa's damn close to breaking the rules," said Susan. "Dragging an outsider into this?"

"Technically, he hasn't broken any yet. It's just some pictures, and he knows it."

"And if we meet Hirawa?"

"I was content with letting him go in Manhattan," said Elijah. "And if he'd just come after us as part of the contract, hey. No hard feelings. But this? No more courtesies."

* * *

Susan moved through the campus, scanning for any sign of Hirawa or other men from the Two Dragon Society. She'd tracked down one of Elijah's cousin's friends at the mechanical engineering building on the north side of campus and gotten oriented towards the library main stacks. She tugged the hood of her coat a little tighter around herself as the gray skies continued drizzling. Groups of students moved around from building to building, some sporting umbrellas, others in a variety of hoods and coats, still others completely uncaring of the rain.

The Berkeley campus library held its main stacks in an underground compound, though the primary entrance near the center of campus sat within a white marble building that had red tiles surrounding its multiple sunroofs. White columns bracketed tall windows. Lush grass fields spread out before the stairs leading up to the entrance. Susan glanced up, past the library building, to the iconic bell and clock tower jutting up above all nearby buildings. Great spot for a sniper: something to be aware of if things went sideways. She headed inside with the inevitable throng of students, flashed the fake identification they'd procured from the Continental's residential information specialist.

The main stack access led to a wide, spiraling staircase that went down multiple stories. She looked at a map, familiarizing herself with the layout of the stacks, and headed in. "How's transmission?" she murmured quietly into her encrypted throat mic.

"Breaking up," came Elijah's static-laced reply. "You're heading underground?"

"Entering the stacks," she said. "If I find her, I'm going to look for a different exit. I don't like our proximity to that tower."

"Got it."

Susan paced through the stacks towards the mechanical engineering books. The scent of musty paper hit her nose. There were so many books that they didn't have space to keep them all on fixed shelves. Instead the library had clusters of bookshelves mounted on rails, operated by crank handles to open up space to the desired row of books. She glanced at each person she passed, searching for the girl from the photos – or any sign of Yakuza hitters. Nobody fitting either criterion hung around the mechanical engineering section. She muttered a curse under her breath.

"Elijah?" she said. "If she's not at the engineering section, any idea where else she might be?"

"You could try Shakespearean poetry?"

"Seriously?" She moved past rows of bookshelves and tables of students, her footsteps blending in with the sound of typing. Susan stepped her pace up but tried to look relatively nonchalant; the people glancing up at her were more attention than she wanted. She reached the section, grinned briefly at the couple reading alternating lines at one table, and kept moving, searching.

There – Susan doubled back; a young Chinese woman sitting alone at a desk with a stack of books in front of her. She took a second look. Elijah's cousin. "I found her. Making contact."

She stepped in close. "Jenny Wu?"

The girl looked up at her. She had her thick black hair drawn up in a ponytail, showcasing a pretty, open face. She lacked Elijah's Middle Eastern features, Susan noticed. "Yes?" the girl said. Her English was only lightly-accented. The look she gave Susan – what was that? Appraisal? Interest? "Who are you?"

"My name is Susan Rizzi. Come with me if you want to live."

Jenny stared blankly at her for a second. "Excuse me?"

"Don't watch many movies, do you?"

"I'm pretty sure there aren't any cyborgs from the future coming to kill me," said Jenny.

"Maybe not, but there's an unfriendly Yakuza guy keeping tabs on you. We need to move before he catches on."

"Who are you? What's going on?"

"I'm a… a partner of your cousin, Elijah. This Yakuza guy is trying to use you to get to him. I'm sorry, but we don't have time to explain right now. We need to move."

"Is this a joke?"

"It's really not." Looking up and scanning around, Susan spotted an Asian man in a suit wandering towards them, looking at each student he passed. Well, crap. She took a long step to the side and cranked the nearest bookshelf, opening it all the way. Susan tucked herself into the aisle, out of sight from the approaching man.

Jenny looked at her like she'd gone crazy. "What are you doing?"

"See the guy in the suit coming this way?" Susan said quietly.

"The guy creeping on people? Yeah, that happens here."

"He's Yakuza. Here for you."

"This isn't funny anymore," Jenny said.

"Sit tight," Susan said as she heard rapid-fire Japanese and footsteps speeding up.

Jenny went pale and her eyes widened. Susan listened to the footsteps – and swung an elbow out right as the Yakuza flunkey passed her aisle.

He reacted fast, she gave him that. He twisted aside, revealing the beginnings of the tattoos along the back of his neck, and skidded to a halt as he kicked out at her while reaching for his waist. Susan stepped into the kick, catching it with the meat of her thigh before it had built up full force. In the same movement she scissored her crossed wrists into his arm, intercepting his draw. She rolled her left arm up and over, stepping into the strike and ramming her elbow into the man's jaw.

A twist of her hips swung him into the shelf aisle. Susan stepped back, twisting his wrist up and over with one hand to keep the gun he clutched under control. With her other hand she batted the crank handle of the bookshelf she'd extended and rolled it shut – slamming into the Yakuza man and trapping him with a grunt of pain. She twisted the handgun out of his hand as he shouted.

The whole thing had taken less than three seconds. Jenny sat frozen, even paler than ever and eyes like saucers. Rizzi tore the magazine out, hurled it over the bookshelves with a snap of her wrist, and racked the slide to empty the chamber before throwing the pistol aside. The pinned Yakuza man shouted a stream of angry Japanese, and other students had started rising from their seats to see what the commotion was. "We're out of time," she said. "We need to move, now!"

To her credit, Jenny got over the shock of things quickly enough. She snatched her pack up as Susan grabbed her arm and hauled her from the desk. Susan snatched an extra earpiece from her pocket and handed it to Jenny. "Elijah's on the other end," she said as she tugged the young woman towards the exit.

Susan drew up to a halt before one of the internal windows offering a view of the central, spiraling staircase. Men in ski masks and suits were funneling down. "Damn it," she muttered. "Not that way. Is there another exit we can get to?"

"The Moffitt Library?" Jenny suggested. "The stacks connect that way," she said, pointing off deeper into the library.

"Let's go," Susan said, grabbing Jenny's arm and hauling the girl along. She glanced back; the masked men were making a beeline for their section.

As they ran past shelves of books Jenny fiddled with the earpiece. " _Tang ge?_ " she said into it, using some Chinese term Susan wasn't familiar with.

"Jenny!" Elijah said through the radio, his voice weak and crackling with static.

"What's going on? What are you doing here? Why are people trying to kill me?!" Susan heard the frantic questions both from the person right beside her and through the radio channel.

"Technically, they're trying to kill Susan and me. You got caught in the middle. Listen, there's no time. We've got to get you to safety. Please, trust Susan and do as she says."

"Who are you?!" Jenny asked as Susan pulled her along. Rapid footsteps echoed through the halls behind them.

"Explanations later, escape now," Susan replied. She glanced behind her to see several of the men chasing them from the staircase. Students had started gathering, seeing the commotion.

That ended swiftly as a pair of shots sounded, thunderously loud in the underground surface. Screams and shouts erupted from students and pandemonium broke out. Susan shoved Jenny behind the closest shelf and dove into a roll as another pair of shots came from their pursuers. One of the shots punched through a bookshelf nearby with a metallic thud. She drew her pistol as she came up to one knee and swung around.

Snapping the sights onto target, Susan put two suppressed shots into the left man's chest. She shifted the pistol and shot the right man through the head. Rising smoothly to her feet, she took her finger off the trigger, stepped over to Jenny, and propelled her along again.

"You just shot those men!" Jenny said as they kept moving through the stacks.

"Get used to it," Susan replied. "There're still more of them."

"Susan? What's going on?" Elijah asked.

"Hirawa's men are here!" she said. "Things went loud."

"Alright, north gate," he said. "I'm circling to the north gate!"

They ran on, accompanied by more screaming and bystanders diving for cover. Rizzi tried to conceal her weapon beneath her coat, but as more of Hirawa's men closed on them she had to return fire twice more. The environment forced her to pick her shots carefully; Susan didn't want to hit one of the innocent students by mistake.

The rows of bookshelves gave way to a curving, gently sloped ramp leading upwards. "Look out!" Susan yelled at groups of students heading the same way, undoubtedly fleeing the violence within. "Get down!" One hand still tugging Jenny along, she pushed past students and hoped the Yakuza men would ignore them as they chased their targets.

They powered through into another section of the library. How many books did they have here, Susan wondered? Jenny shook her shoulder. "That way!" she yelled, pointing at a set of stairs leading up. Susan sprinted up the stairs, casting a quick glance behind to the corridor connecting the main stacks for any sign of pursuit. Hirawa's men must have decided to slow things down a notch after losing several of their men. The mass of panicking students couldn't be helping them either.

Thankfully, Jenny seemed to be a bit of an athlete; she wasn't breathing particularly harder than Susan as they made it to the ground floor. They blew past the circulation desk and Susan nearly shoulder-checked a hapless student as they rushed towards the exit. The screams and panic had just about doubled in volume as the chaos spread. She slammed through the door-

Right into a suited man waiting outside. Slight and sinewy, Japanese. Tattoos running along the side of his neck. His eyes widened and he reached inside his jacket-

Susan jammed the muzzle of her pistol into his chest and pulled the trigger twice. She swept the man aside with her free arm, then nabbed Jenny, who looked decidedly pale by now. A second to get her bearings – there, north gate that way. "Come on!"

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," Jenny mumbled as they ran. Emergency sirens wailed and people were scattering in all directions.

Susan grimaced; the damn campus seemed to be all hills, and between that and the various clashing architecture, reduced line of sight to a mess of short distances as they threaded between department buildings. Double-edged sword, she supposed. While they wouldn't know if they were about to run into any hitters until they were right on top of them, it also meant anybody looking for a long range shot would be stymied if they picked the right paths.

They got to the north gate, which stood right beside a long, sloping avenue. Susan drew up to a halt as she noticed another suited man facing towards the campus rather than running away, as if he were waiting. His hands snapped up from beneath his suit jacket; he clutched a pistol carbine conversion and snapped off a pair of shots towards them.

Susan tackled Jenny aside, rolling them behind one of the big pillars bracketing the campus entrance. The hitter put round after round into the pillar as he circled around to get a better angle. People cleared out, screaming, as stone chips flew. The shots echoed through the cold air, sonic cracks in the rain. Susan gripped her pistol in both hands and peeked out, then swung back as another pair of shots cracked off the pillar beside her face. The hitter took another step to the side-

And a dark gray sedan roaring down the street swung into a fishtail with a screech of wet tires, slamming into the man from behind with its rear and launching him through the air. The man hit the ground in a ragdoll tumble and came to a rest a dozen meters away. Susan hauled Jenny up, who was regarding the scene in open-mouthed horror. "Let's go."

Susan pushed the girl towards the car, around the hood, and yanked the passenger door open. She shoved Jenny in, shut the door, and dove into the back seat. "Drive!"

"Hi, Jenny," Elijah said as he gunned the engine. "Seatbelt on."

Bracing herself with her feet, Susan reached down to the car floor and opened the case containing her short-barreled rifle. She activated the red dot sight and tugged the charging handle back an inch, making sure she had a round in the chamber, then looked back out the rear window for any sign of pursuit.

"Holy shit!" Jenny yelled; when Susan glanced over at her she saw the young woman turned halfway around in her seat, staring back at Susan with wide eyes. "Who are you?!"

"It's complicated!" Susan yelled back over the engine.

Jenny turned to her cousin. "Eli? What the hell is going on?! Why are people trying to kill us?!"

"Like Susan said, it's complicated," Elijah replied as he swung the car around a street corner and laid onto the horn. The car swerved around others as he swung between lanes.

"Complicated? _Complicated?!_ There are people-"

"We'll explain later!" he said. "Let's just get out of this alive first!" He glanced back at Susan in the rearview mirror. "Are we clear? I really don't want to try getting onto the Bay Bridge if they're chasing us."

"Yeah, and I thought traffic in New York sucked," Susan said. "So far so-"

She really shouldn't have said anything, Susan reflected as a bullet shattered the rear window and cold air blew in. "No, we're not clear!"

"I got that!" he called back.

"Jenny! Get down and cover your ears!" Susan yelled as she sat up. A black SUV chased after them, shoving cars aside as it closed the distance. Somebody had his arm stuck out the passenger window, firing a pistol at them.

She lined her rifle up, breathing out as the car jolted and swayed. She pressed the trigger, feeling the rifle buck against her shoulder and its roar filled the car. Susan put a half-dozen rapid shots through the pursuing vehicle's engine grill as Jenny screamed. She braced the rifle against the broken window frame, adjusted her aim, and sent two rounds towards the passenger seat.

"Right turn," Elijah called back. Susan braced herself as their car swerved again. She brought her rifle in tight against her shoulder, waiting for-

The pursuing car swung around the corner. Rizzi triple tapped the driver and their pursuers plowed into one of the parked cars by the curbside with a thundering bang, setting off car alarms up and down the street. Susan released a slow breath as she watched for another moment while the city went by. "Clear for now."

"Holy shit," Jenny said. Her gaze flickered between Susan and Elijah " _Tang ge_ , what kind of consulting do you _do?_ "


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

They crossed back across the Bay Bridge into San Francisco, dropped the car off at one of the Continental's associate shops, and drove off in a dark blue car of entirely different make. They circled back towards the hotel. Jenny stared up at the building as they pulled up to the curb. "What is this place?"

"It's a hotel," Elijah said. "Look, just keep your head down and don't draw any attention to yourself in there."

"Why?"

"You're an outsider. We really shouldn't be bringing you here."

"Then why are we here?"

"We're checking out," said Susan. "Wait in the lobby, I'll get our stuff."

"Checking out?" Jenny looked around, still wide-eyed as they entered the Continental. "Whoa, Eli, you stay in places like this?"

Susan missed his reply as she moved up towards the front desk. The concierge gave her a look as she approached. "Miss Rizzi," he said in a low voice, "this is most irregular. An outsider, here?"

"I know," she said. "Look, we're checking out. Just let me grab our things from our room. The outsider will remain here, under escort. Is that acceptable?"

The concierge nodded after a moment. "Irregular," he said again, "but acceptable."

"Thanks," said Susan. She made a beeline for the elevators.

* * *

After retrieving their luggage the party left the city, heading south down the peninsula towards the south bay area. Susan watched the green mountainsides go by with one eye as they sped down one of the highways that formed the arteries of transit. With her other she kept watch on the other cars around them, for any sign of others hunting them.

They headed for an Exodus transit site that Elijah knew of. Someplace quiet, he'd said, out of the way. A place to hole up while they made arrangements with the Exodus Railroad. Things had, after all, taken a turn for the _unplanned_ , even more than before.

Jenny stayed silent in the passenger seat as Elijah drove; Susan suspected some measure of shock from the day's events had set in. Poor girl. She hadn't asked for any of this. Damn Hirawa and his grudge; even if he hadn't _technically_ broken the rules, he'd likely knocked her life askew. He hadn't been the one to pull an outsider into their world – technically Susan and Elijah had done that by getting to her first.

Susan glanced over at the younger woman from the back seat. Strange; it wasn't that long ago she would probably have been in the position of silencing somebody like Jenny – a hapless outsider in over their head. Now, here she was trying to keep her alive. And with no payday or contract attached to it.

Eventually Elijah pulled off the highway to a smaller road winding deeper into the mountains. Unlike the frigid winters of the east coast, the trees here retained their leaves, painting the terrain a shade of green she appreciated. She would have liked just traveling through with Elijah – nobody hunting them, no involvement with the shadow world – just spending time with somebody she cared for.

The road led to what had evidently once been a quarry. A wood cabin sat a short ways off from the excavated ground. "What is this?" Jenny finally said.

"It's a bit of a safe house," Elijah said as he pulled up to the cabin. "We hold up here while I make arrangements." He climbed out of the car and went to the trunk, grabbed their luggage while Susan moved to the cabin to check it.

She entered the cabin; it had the dry, slightly musty smell of an infrequently used residence, but the inside was clean and well-kept. Spartan, certainly, but more than functional. The common room led to several rooms with bunks and connected to a kitchen with dining space. One room had monitors connected to an array of security cameras covering the property.

Elijah moved their luggage in as Susan scanned their surroundings, rifle at the ready. The clearing went a little far for comfort with a five-five-six round, but it wasn't like they'd had time to pack anything heavier. Oh well.

Jenny stepped inside as well, her arms wrapped around herself, looking like a doe caught in headlights. Elijah set their stuff down in a corner, then sighed and stepped over towards the dining table where Jenny had sat down at. "Okay," he said. "I think you deserve answers at this point."

* * *

All in all, Susan thought Jenny took it rather well.

"What the hell?" Jenny leaned back against her seat after listening to Elijah, clutching her head in her hands. "Are you serious?"

"You did see the guys trying to kill us?" he said.

"You're really an assassin?" she asked. "You shoot people for money?"

"Sometimes he stabs them," Susan said from the doorway.

"Susan, please," Elijah said, rubbing his forehead. "Not helping. And like I said, we're trying to get out of the assassin life."

Jenny crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow; at that moment Susan saw the family resemblance more than ever. "Shouldn't that be as simple as not killing people anymore?"

"If only," said Susan. "Things are… a little more complicated than that in our circle."

"And I still don't know who you are," Jenny said. "But I suppose you did get me away from those men back there, so… thanks."

"Susan's with me," said Elijah. "Or I'm with her. It's-"

"Complicated? I'm getting that a lot."

"Sorry," he said. "I wouldn't have ever wanted all this to impact you."

"It's a lot to take in," Jenny said. "You're part of some fantastical criminal underworld? There _is_ a fantastical criminal underworld? And now you're trying to get out and people want to kill you? You have a girlfriend?"

"Wha- Does that last one really belong in that list?"

"You never brought anybody to any of the gatherings. It's a bit of a change to me. I thought you weren't interested."

"Just hadn't met the right person," Elijah said, glancing at Susan. "I need to get in touch with Exodus, let them know things have changed." He grabbed a bottle of water from the pantry and headed for the door, pulling a burner phone from his pocket – and leaving Susan alone with Jenny.

The younger woman stared at her for a moment. "So, how did you guys meet?"

Susan blinked. "Really? You've just learned of an elaborate criminal society and that's what you want to know about?"

"I'm trying not to think about that part," Jenny replied. "Something like my cousin's girlfriend helps distract me from that. So, how did you meet?"

"He threw me out a window," said Susan.

"I can't tell if you're serious or not," Jenny said.

"I'm serious," Susan said, smiling as she moved to sit across Jenny at the table. "We were contracted by opposite sides of a struggle for influence in New York. Turned out we were staying across the hall from each other at the hotel."

"And that wasn't awkward if you were supposed to be enemies?"

"The hotel is neutral ground," said Susan. "A safe haven, if you will. No business on the premises."

"How do they get people to behave?"

"The threat of overwhelming violence, usually. Nobody wants to mess with that organization."

"So you guys got to know each other at the hotel?"

"It started off with the odd breakfast and encounter in the bar," said Susan. "We kept running into each other here and there, and before I knew it we were each other's next targets."

"And then?"

"Then we started sleeping with each other."

Jenny stared at her for a moment. "You guys have some messed up foreplay."

"We're probably not paragons of mental wellness, no."

Jenny giggled at that.

"He spoke of you, you know," Susan said suddenly. "He's very proud of you."

"I know he helps out with my tuition. Like, a lot. But to learn about this whole side of him? He always seemed a little distant from everybody. Mixed blood is looked down on in some of the circles we grew up in, you know? Turns out it's because he shoots people for a living."

Susan didn't know what to say to that. It had been a long time since that hadn't been the norm for her; hell, most of what passed for her social circle was immersed head-to-toe in their shadow world.

"And now he shows up with you. It's kind of strange, that you know Elijah better than I."

"I know him differently," Susan said gently. "We still have things to learn about each other. You've known him a lot longer than I have."

Jenny laughed. "He's _running away with you_. It'd be romantic if it weren't for the whole people trying to kill you thing." She shrugged. "Maybe it kind of still is. And if you guys really haven't known each other that long, well, that's not like the Eli I know."

"Wouldn't have thought it like myself either," said Susan. "I guess we make each other crazy. Sorry you got dragged into this."

"He said you guys are on the run from a contract placed on you both by his former employers? How'd _that_ happen?"

Susan sighed. "Our, uh, extraprofessional relationship got back to our employers. My boss snatched me off the street. Elijah came after me, things got crazy, and we killed my former boss. Silver Mountain was watching. The contract is… in some ways it's a formality. He did betray his contract by not killing me, but we also won that little war for them."

"And that doesn't get you a pass to ride off into the sunset?"

"It got us a 'not getting gunned down right there' pass. Now we just need to ride this thing out until the contract expires."

"And this guy after you – the one who was using me – you know him?"

"Hirawa? You could say that. It's more than business with him."

"How do you know that?" Jenny asked.

Susan stood up, poked around the kitchen. She filled a kettle and set it on the stove. "Because he went after you."

"And that's special because?"

"You're not- You weren't part of this world. There are rules, guidelines, traditions, that govern our affairs. Pulling outsiders into things is… not looked upon kindly."

"What happened? Why's it personal with him?"

"Elijah beat him in a duel."

"A duel?" Jenny's eyebrows rose. "Like, with swords?"

"Exactly." Susan said, pouring the heated water into two mugs. She carried them over to the table and placed one before Jenny.

"You guys have weird lives."

"No argument there."

"And he's Yakuza, you mentioned?" Jenny frowned. " _Tang ge_ was working with the Triads. You were with some Italian group. Just how widespread _is_ this whole shadow world of yours?"

"You probably don't want to know," Susan said. "Let's just say it's pretty global."

"Jesus. It's like you guys stepped out of some movie."

"Yeah? Well, let me know when we get to a happy ending."

"Can I not be the side character who gets killed off for angst and drama?"

Susan smiled. "We're working on it."

Jenny nodded towards the door. "Who's Eli talking to? This place, he said it belongs to… Extus? Who are they?"

"Exodus. The Exodus Railroad. They're… well, I guess they're a part of our world. The High Table considers them troublemakers, and with good reason."

"High- no, wait, never mind. I probably don't want to know."

"Exodus is… call it a faith-based paramilitary group devoted to opposing human trafficking and slavery."

"You're kidding."

Susan said nothing.

"You're not kidding." Jenny shook her head. " _Jesus,_ you guys really do live in some bizarro otherworld, don't you?"

"Same world as everyone else," Susan said. "It's just… there's more going on than many are aware of."

"Yeah, no kidding. So, how are _they_ involved in all this?"

"Exodus is good at making people disappear. Wouldn't you know, an intimate familiarity with smuggling people around makes them pretty good at it themselves. Elijah's worked with them before, and I've heard he's pretty popular with them."

"My cousin, the paramilitary smuggling hitman hero?" Jenny buried her face in her hands. "Okay, ready to wake up now."

"Sorry."

The cabin door opened; Susan already had her pistol out when Elijah stepped through. Jenny scooted back from her, eyes wide.

"Well, they're not thrilled about things," Elijah said, "but they'll roll with it. A team will come out in the next several days."

"Several days?" Susan echoed.

"Seems things are kind of crazy all around the world right now."

She chuckled. "What else is new?"

"Somebody took out a High Table member," he said with a sigh.

Susan felt her eyes grow wide. "Holy mother of-"

"Is that a big deal?" Jenny asked.

"It's a big deal," Elijah said. "Think…"

"Assassinating the chancellor of Germany," said Susan. "I mean, it's quieter than that to the public, but in terms of shaking things up? That's a hell of a bombshell."

Jenny buried her head in her hands again. "Okay, this is crazy. I'm just an engineering student. Yesterday, my biggest worry was acing the microscale fluid mechanics midterm!"

"Sorry."

"Exodus has been taking advantage of the upheaval," Elijah said. "So they've got teams on deployment all over. We're just… lower on the priority list right now. So we hole up here for a few days, wait the storm out. Hopefully whatever's going on with the High Table pulls attention away from us."

"That'd be nice," Susan said. "But I'm not counting on it. Glad we brought that extra ammo."

* * *

They set up on the dining table, in lieu of any kind of dedicated workspace. Rifles and pistols, disassembled and cleaned: his stubby X95 alongside her APC-556. Blades lay in a row along one side of the table. Elijah's sword – a short Chinese _jian –_ and her folders and and Elijah loaded magazines. The quiet clack of rounds being shoved home filled the space as they worked.

"It's never simple, is it?" Elijah said as he set aside the third mag for his Jericho. "I noticed you were talking to Jenny earlier." The young woman had taken one of the bedrooms – presumably as the adrenaline of the day's events wore off and her body crashed. "Does she hate me now?"

"Hate may be a strong term for it," Susan said. "Poor girl did just get her world upended."

"You're right."

"She is taking it better than I expected," she said. "That's probably the best you can expect for now."

He sighed. "Yeah, I expect you're right again." Then he grinned at her. "I get the feeling I'm going to be saying that a lot in the future."

Susan returned the grin. "Wherever would you get that idea?"

"Clichéd relationship expectations, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. You know I'm not always going to be right. Call me out when I'm not, okay?"

"Sure," he said, "maybe when you're unarmed."

Susan chuckled, then got up from her seat and circled the table. She sat down on Elijah lap, draped her arms around his neck. "So you mean, only when we're in bed?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I know about the CZ you keep under your pillow."

"Then when we're making love."

"I think that's when you're deadliest," he murmured, his hands drifting across her body.

Susan leaned in and kissed him, gentle and slow, just reveling in the contact and the warmth that seeped through every inch of her body when she did so.

"I love you," Elijah said once they'd finally broken apart slightly.

"I love you," Susan said, smiling as she did so. The first time had felt strange and foreign, like operating an unfamiliar gun. This time around felt better, something she wanted to explore further.

She kissed him again, tightening her arms to press their bodies together. They were just about finished loading mags as it was, and they had some time to-

A quiet cough from the side and they broke apart, turning their heads to see Jenny staring from the hall at the scene, eyes wide. "This is officially the _weirdest_ little domestic scene ever," she said.

Susan stood up quickly from Elijah's lap. "We were, uh-"

Jenny threw a hand out. "Stop right there, I don't want to know. Maybe I should just be happy I didn't wander out five minutes later or something."

"It… probably wouldn't have gotten that far?" she said weakly.

"Somehow, I don't believe you," said Jenny. "Although, I don't see how that could be comfortable with all this." She waved a hand towards the table and the weapons atop it. "Seriously – enough guns, you guys?"

"No such thing," Elijah said. "You should probably get used to it for the near future."

Jenny's lips thinned for a moment, then she marched over to the table, picked up one of Elijah's pistols, and plucked up one of its magazines. She slammed it home, then racked the slide to release it.

"Where'd you learn to use a gun?" he asked quietly.

"I've always had a passing interest," Jenny said. "If only in the mechanics and physics of how they operate."

"There's a difference," Susan said, stepping over and placing a hand over Jenny's, "between loading one in a controlled environment and using it in combat."

"And yet another one when it comes to taking a life," said Elijah. "I'd rather you not cross that line if we don't have to."

"Ideally we won't have to use any of this," Susan said.

"Fine," said Jenny. She set the pistol back down on the table. "I just… I hate waiting around for something to happen. It feels like I have no control. Can I make myself useful some other way then? Can I make dinner or something?"

"Sure," Elijah said. "We're free to use the facilities. They've only got some basic provisions stocked, but-"

"I'll make do." Jenny stepped over towards the fridge and pantry, tugging the doors open and peering inside. "In the meantime… I think you two should take advantage of 'free use of the facility' and get a room or something. Please?"

Susan felt the heat creeping up her cheeks. "Sorry."

* * *

Contrary to Jenny's expectations, they didn't spend their time cooped up in a bedroom together.

They spent most of it in the monitoring room, and not in the fun way. Trading off watches, Susan and Elijah took turns keeping an eye on the security camera displays, power-napping when they were off. At one point while Susan was on watch, she got up to stretch, glanced around the room, and took a second look at the walls. They looked like hewn timber, polished and sealed, but the thickness of the walls had been bugging her ever since they'd arrived. She stepped over and ran her fingertips across the surface.

"If it's anything like the other Exodus safehouse I've been in," Elijah said sleepily from the couch against the opposite wall, "they lined the walls with ballistic protection."

"Hey," Susan said. "Did I wake you?"

"It's fine," he said, stifling a yawn. "There should be a cache of weapons stashed around here somewhere too."

"Beneath the kitchen floor," said Susan. "I thought it sounded a little hollow earlier."

"Let's leave it for as long as we can. Exodus is usually pretty free with its stuff, but weapons may be another story."

"We've got our own gear anyways, so that's not a concern."

"Yeah." Elijah shifted on the couch and sat up, leaning back against the cushions. "So, assuming we outlive the week, where to?"

"We should lay low for a while, even after the contract expires," said Susan. "Someplace quiet, out of the way."

"Maybe… New Zealand?"

Keeping an eye on the monitors, Susan sank down next to Elijah on the couch. "Too many sheep. How about… Palau?"

"You know, I've always wanted to visit there," Elijah said. "Never seemed to be able to carve out the time."

"Let's do it," Susan said. "Find some quiet hut on a beach and just hide away from it all."

"I admit, I wouldn't say no to the prospect of you in a swimsuit."

"I like the sound of it myself. Not saying we need to live there indefinitely, but it's as good a place as any to lay low until whatever's going on with the High Table blows over."

"Do you think it actually will?" Elijah said, stifling another yawn.

"What do you mean?"

"It's always something or another. That world exists off of bloodshed and conflict. There's no peace there."

"But sometimes there's a lull in the storm. Maybe that'll be enough for us."

"I hope so." He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it softly as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "And Jenny?"

"We should offer to take her with us," Susan said. "After derailing her life like this, there are worse apologies than a trip to a tropical island."

"Another week and she should be fine. She's still considered an outsider. She should be able to go anywhere without risk."

"What about Hirawa? If he was willing to go against tradition like this once…"

"Yeah. I'll encourage her to go back to Beijing," Elijah said. "Two Dragon wouldn't try something against an outsider there."

"It's an idea," she said. "But I don't know if things can just… go back to normal for her."

"I know," Elijah groaned. "It's my-"

"Hey." She pressed a hand against the side of his face. "It's not your fault. You couldn't know. Sure, it's not what we would've wanted, but you can't blame yourself."

He covered her hand with his own, leaning into the contact. "Thank you," he said softly after a moment. "

"There's no point beating yourself up over things you have no control of," Susan said. "Our hands are bloody enough with guilt as it is."

"True enough." Elijah leaned his head back against the couch. "I can't help but wonder what else this old life will spill over into."

"Whatever it is," Susan said as she intertwined their fingers, "we'll face it together."

"Have I told you that I love you?"

She smiled. "I could stand to hear it some more."

* * *

A storm had moved in from the coasts during the night, covering the sky with thick, dark clouds that poured rain down at an incessant pace. Fat droplets beat a steady rhythm against the cabin roof, and even by late morning the dimness of the obscured sky made it feel like night.

"They don't keep very fresh ingredients here," Jenny said as she passed steaming bowls around the kitchen table.

"Don't worry about it," Elijah said. "This place isn't meant for long-term residents."

"What does this Exodus group use it for?"

"Sometimes staging areas for operations," he said. "Sometimes when they're moving people around surreptitiously."

"You mean… smuggling people? Isn't that a bit hypocritical if they're supposed to be against human trafficking?"

"It's a matter of intent with them," Elijah replied.

Susan nodded. "Some of the survivors are still at risk even once they've been freed from immediate imprisonment. Take somebody who'd been bought by a vindictive mob boss. A lot of the people probably don't want to leave paperwork trails."

"And governments?" Jenny asked. "They don't care?"

"As long as the right people are bought off, placated, or otherwise kept compliant, it's business as usual."

"That's…"

"How the world works," Susan said, digging into her bowl with a spoon. Jenny had taken some of the supplies stored by Exodus: rice, dried beans, and salted pork, cooking it all down to a sort of savory porridge. "This is good," she said, jabbing her spoon at the bowl.

"Mom insisted I learn from an early age," Jenny said. "I'm pretty sure she intended it for a husband, not cooking while on the run from a Yakuza assassin."

"If it makes you feel better," said Elijah, "he's not the only one after us right now."

"No, Eli. That doesn't make me feel better."

"Sorry," Susan said. Her phone buzzed; she tugged it out of her pocket and glanced down at the screen. "Oh, crap."

It was a message from Lisa Marx: _They're coming._


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Handing her phone to Elijah, Susan dashed towards the security room. The monitors still showed nothing on the winding road up to the quarry. A grinding scrape came from the kitchen; Elijah must have been shifting the table aside. Susan returned to see that indeed he had shoved the table away and was tapping away at the floor, listening for a hollow echo.

He found it near the center, then swept a palm across the floor. "What are you doing?" Jenny asked, standing off to one side.

"Here," Elijah said, glancing up at Susan as he flipped up a panel of flooring to reveal a concealed latch. Susan rushed over and together they pulled it up, hinging a trapdoor open.

The Exodus stash wasn't particularly large; the trapdoor had a short ladder that led down to a small chamber, no larger than a closet. A rather crowded closet, admittedly; racks of rifles, handguns, shotguns, and ammunition crammed each wall.

"Huh," said Jenny, stepping over to the edge of the opening and looking down at the small armory. "That would have been a lot stranger before yesterday. Do I want to know what's going on?"

"Some people are coming to kill us," Elijah said.

"And you're gonna kill 'em first?"

"Exactly," Susan said.

"And you guys needed _more_ guns than what you had yesterday?"

"This isn't for us," Elijah said. "When things go loud, I want you to climb in here and hide."

A fiery defiance kindled in Jenny's eyes. "I can fight."

"That's not the issue," Susan said. "Look, as far as the contracts are concerned, you're an outsider. You're not involved, you're not a target."

"It sure doesn't feel that way!"

"The safest thing," she said, "would actually be for you to go hide in the quarry until this is over."

"No way," Jenny said, looking frightened but trying to hold it back. "What if they send people that way to check? If yesterday was any indication, the safest place is close to you guys – even if it does get a bit loud."

"Fine," Elijah said. "When the shooting starts, hide in here. Don't make a sound. We'll try to keep them from getting to the house."

"And you'll do that how?"

"Like you said…" Susan shook her coat off. "We're gonna kill them first."

"I've seen this movie," Jenny said. "If Javier Bardem shows up in a helicopter, I'm _out._ "

Susan picked up her rifle, laughed as she inserted a magazine, and racked the charging handle. "Don't worry; we're not worth _that_ much."

"Somehow, that doesn't encourage me."

Susan stuck her earpiece in and looked at Elijah. "I'll take the forest to the east."

"I'll cover north," he said. "Catch them in a crossfire once they clear the tree line?"

"Yeah." Susan loaded her pistols, and then stripped her shirt off as Elijah did likewise.

"Whoa," Jenny said. "Is this really the time?"

"It's not like that," Elijah said, moving over to their leather garment bags and drawing out ballistic vests. He tossed Susan's to her; she slipped it on over her head, settled the customized fit for her bust around her torso, and tightened it down. "You know," he said, tightening on his own vest, "I'd heard they started doing ballistic linings for suits and regular clothes. Shame we didn't have time to pick some up."

"I'll try to better schedule getting kidnapped next time," Susan said, grinning.

Jenny crossed her arms. "You guys are way too casual about all this."

"I'd say you get used to it," Elijah said, "but I really hope you don't have to."

"Okay," Susan said, slipping her shirt back on and strapping on a chest rig loaded with magazines. Her coat went over it all. "I'm going to head out now, get the lay of the land."

"Watch yourself," he said.

She holstered her pistols, slipped on her knives, stepped over, and kissed him. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Susan grabbed her rifle and headed for the door. She tugged her hood up. Anybody coming for the bounty would regret it, she told herself.

* * *

The rain didn't let up. It spattered off tree canopies in a percussive beat, and the fresh, damp forest smell tickled her nose. Susan moved through the underbrush parallel to the lonely road leading to the quarry, keeping an eye out for any sign of their assailants. She also studied the layout of the terrain, seeing where copses of trees clumped together, where brush and undergrowth offered concealment.

"Heads up," Elijah's voice came through her earpiece. "Four cars turning onto the road, two klicks out."

"I don't suppose there's any chance they're Exodus?" she asked.

"No, I asked. They said there's at least another day before any of their people arrive. I'm moving out."

"Better hurry," Susan said as she began moving towards a spot covering the road she'd noted earlier. "I'm starting the party without you."

She didn't have to wait long upon getting into position. The sound of roaring engines broke through the susurrate drizzle of the rain. Susan caught sight of the trio of cars driving up the unpaved road, their tires churning up the wet gravel and mud. They weren't all from the same group; the lead cars were black SUVs like the one they'd encountered in Berkeley, the third a dusty tan pickup truck, and the last a sleek convertible with its top deployed.

Rizzi shouldered her rifle up and flicked the selector lever to Auto. She drew a bead on the lead car and pressed the trigger. She put a burst through the front left tire, switched her aim to the engine block, and put another burst through that. As the SUV swerved and skidded she emptied the rest of her magazine into the windshield – and grimaced as the rounds left a series of craters and hazed spider web cracks instead of penetrating through. Bullet-resistant glass. Great.

She turned and took off running, leaping over a low log as she moved away, displacing towards the quarry. The screech of brakes and then a soft, wet crash came from behind her. Then the distinctive, flat concussive _bang_ of a grenade launcher. An explosion sent mud and splinters flying from her previous position.

"Sweetheart," Susan said into her throat mic as she ran, "they brought a grenade launcher."

"I noticed," Elijah replied. "Getting into posi- Did you just call me 'sweetheart'?"

"Is now really the time?" she said, flinching as another grenade went off.

"No, I like it." His tone changed from playful to flat and cold. "Don't be near the cars."

"I'm clear. Go."

A long, rippling burst of automatic gunfire sounded from across the road. Susan swung around, pressed herself against the side of a thick redwood tree, and stripped the empty magazine from her rifle. She tucked it away, pulled a fresh one from her chest rig, and slammed it home before running the charging handle. Making her way closer to the road, she saw that the lead car had gone off course and slammed through a brush into a tree, about a hundred meters away from her position. The other black SUV had come to a stop alongside – and the occupants of both were making their way up towards Elijah's position in a loose spread. There were two figures dismounting from the pickup, and at the rear another one from the convertible. The men from the SUVs wore the same suits and ski masks as the ones from the Berkeley library: Two Dragon, most likely.

Susan took aim at the closest one and fired a salvo. He staggered and fell, body out of sight in the forested undergrowth. The others were exchanging fire with Elijah; she couldn't see him from here, but she could certainly hear the gunfire, echoing strangely through the trees and rain. She adjusted her aim-

And jolted as a crossbow bolt buried itself into the tree trunk inches from her face with a wet thud.

The fletching still vibrating from impact, Susan ducked and swung away. Her heart pounded from the sudden near-death. Only one person she knew used a crossbow – and with that degree of skill. Kols van Haag, another assassin she'd had the displeasure of running across. They'd been rivals on a contract once; he'd given her a scar across the ribs with a broadhead bolt, she'd taken his eye with a botched pistol shot. All things considered she'd come off the better from that particular exchange, but she'd also made it a point to avoid van Haag after that. The man carried a grudge, after all.

And now he had the perfect reason to cash it in – literally.

Susan moved again, none too soon. Another flat _bang_ went off from the direction of the pickup; a low hiss over the rain heralded the grenade as it smacked high into the tree she'd run from. Hunching her shoulders against the shower of splinters and wood fragments, Susan threw herself into a roll and barely avoided getting impaled by a falling branch. She snarled as she came up, dirt and leaves clinging to her coat. Seriously – grenades? A part of her might have been flattered at warranting such ordnance. A larger part of her just disapproved of the boorishness of it all. Grenades were so… _unprofessional._ They made a mess of things and practically screamed _I'm trying to cause collateral damage._ Even van Haag and his oddball crossbow fetish had a certain style.

She moved again, staying close beneath the trees. Another grenade went off, wide and to her right. Okay, they weren't able to keep track of her every move. The firefight across the road still raged, and the distortion imposed by the trees and rain made it hard to keep track of just where the combatants were. Making her way to the edge of the road again, Susan fired a burst towards the cars, trying to suppress the two assholes with the grenade launcher. She didn't see the figure from the convertible; that must have been van Haag, and he must have made his way into the forest. _Great._

Another burst forced the grenade guys apart and she sprinted across the road, crossing perpendicular to minimize her time exposed in the open. Another grenade detonated high and short of her; the foliage working against contact fuses. Susan moved deeper into the woods, trying to follow the sounds of the gunfight. She caught glimpses through the trees and brush of combatants on the move: rain-slicked suits and muzzle flashes.

She almost collided with the first Two Dragon man. Rounding a fork-trunked redwood so wide she couldn't have wrapped her arms around it, Susan stumbled across the suited hitter reloading his MP5. His head swiveled and he snapped off a side kick towards her. She took it on the meat of her hip and jabbed out with the muzzle of her rifle, punching against his chest and knocking him back a step. Susan shot him twice in the chest, then snapped the rifle up and put another round his head in one motion.

A burst of gunfire drilled into the trunk beside her with a staccato rhythm of wet thuds. Rizzi danced back around, swinging the other way. She leaned out, located the shooter, and sent two shots his way. As he fell back she glanced around, trying to ascertain the state of the fight. Motion: further away, blurred and obscured by the trees in the way.

Susan advanced in a rapid gait, firing with each step. She landed three shots on the Two Dragon hitter and broke into a run as he collapsed. More bursts of gunfire came from up ahead, and then an angry shout. The trees were too thick to see clearly, forcing her to balance speed with caution.

She peeked around a clump of brush and low branches – and blanched. Elijah dueled Hirawa in a small clearing, their blades moving so fast they were just silver blurs in the rain. Steel rasped and sang in the air, ringing off each other in a series of strikes and parries. Three of the surviving hitters stood at the clearing perimeter, their weapons at the ready. One watched the fight, the others looked outwards. She circled around the clearing, moving towards the men. Hirawa undoubtedly wanted to kill Elijah himself in another duel – a reprise of their confrontation in New York – but the way he'd set it up, Elijah lost either way. Even if Hirawa lost the sword fight, the other Two Dragon men would kill him.

To hell with that.

She couldn't win in a stand-off fight. Launching herself through the underbrush, Susan took the closest man down in a rolling tackle, pumping round after round into him. Her rifle clicked empty as the others swung her way. She pushed off into another diving tackle, releasing her rifle to hang on its sling. Susan hit the next man across the knees, taking both of them down to the wet, leaf-covered ground. Planting one hand across his mask-covered face, she drew her pistol and pressed it into his chest. She squeezed the trigger several times, then threw herself to the side, hauling the Two Dragon man's body up before her as the last hitter fired a burst at her.

The rounds drilled into her victim. Susan leaned up and put two rounds into the last man's chest. She rode the recoil, letting it carry her aim to his head, and put another shot through his head. Susan rolled forward to her knees and swiveled her pistol down, delivered a point-blank headshot to the man beneath her. The whole thing had taken just a handful of seconds; Elijah was still trading blows with Hirawa. Pushing to her feet, she swung around towards the first man, her pistol leading the way, and-

Cried out in pain as a crossbow bolt sliced through where her torso had been an instant ago. It cut across her right bicep, the edge slicing through the leather of her coat sleeve and drawing a red line of blood. Susan spun to see a fit European man in a hunting jacket and cap striding towards her through the trees. He was drawing another bolt from the quiver at his hip and his face was an expressionless mask, save for the manic glint in his one eye. An eyepatch covered his right eye – the one she'd put out.

Kols van Haag loaded the bolt into the crossbow in his hands. Susan snapped off a shot – a hasty, ill-aimed one between the exhaustion and pain. The shot kicked up a clod of mud from beside his boot and van Haag dashed to the side, circling for the trees and growth around. Susan broke into a run. She closed the distance, firing to suppress the other assassin, but the dense foliage kept her from finding a clear shot. A snapping _twang_ announced another bolt lancing out from the brushes; it streaked past her in a dark blur. The pistol locked empty as she charged through a brush.

Van Haag plowed through to meet her. They came together in a bone-jarring crash as he bulled her back towards the clearing. He jabbed at her with the crossbow; Susan swayed aside – and realized it was a feint as van Haag twisted his wrist and hooked her pistol with its limbs. He wrenched the weapon from her hand, dropped the crossbow in the same motion, and surged forward as he drew a large hunting knife with his other hand.

Susan parried his first thrust with her forearm. Van Haag snapped his head into hers, smacking against her brow with painful force. She stumbled back two steps, caught his knife hand's wrist with both her hands, and barely stopped it short of her ribs. Van Haag's sole eye glared at her with a manic, hateful intensity, and his lips twisted as he seized her neck with his other hand. Susan tucked her chin down and twisted her hands, trying to redirect the knife.

"I want you to know," van Haag said, his voice a low snarl, "that I'd do this for free."

She kicked out at the side of his knee, dropped her weight, and used her grip on his hand to lever him towards the ground. Van Haag swept his leg behind her ankles as he fell, bringing her down with him. Susan arched her back, throwing her stomach back away from the blade. She hit the ground on her side, lost her grip on van Haag's arm, huffed hard as the breath escaped from her lungs, and-

Threw her arms up desperately before her face in a crossed block as his knife whipped towards her eye. She stopped it inches away, the point a threatening gleam in the rain. "I'm going to return the favor," van Haag said, pushing down with both fists clenched around the handle.

Susan breathed in. Her arms protested against the strain. Rain spattered her face. The scent of wet leaves and dirt filled her lungs as she shifted against the ground. Twisting her hips, she rolled one leg under and launched her other knee into his side. Once, twice, then another time before he finally gasped and the downward pressure gave way for a moment.

A grunt and another rasp of metal rang out from the side, where Elijah and Hirawa struggled. "Susan!" she heard Elijah call. Then a rustling thud nearby. She glanced over; saw Hirawa's katana lying on the ground with its hilt facing towards them. How the hell had he managed _that_? No matter: she'd take whatever she could get.

Throwing her arms to the side, Susan guided van Haag's blade into the soft, wet dirt while she rolled the other way towards the curved sword. Seizing the hilt with both hands, she lunged to her feet with a simultaneous upwards slash that drove van Haag back. Still glaring at her, he tugged his knife from the dirt and raised it before him.

For a moment, Susan could almost respect the sheer depth of hatred and tenacity needed to face down a sword with just a knife like that.

The moment passed.

She swung the katana, stepping into the blow. Van Haag didn't pull quite fast enough and lost his knife – and a good bit of his arm – as the blade sliced into his forearm. Susan followed through with an upwards diagonal slash that cut across his chest, and then one final slash across his throat. Three cuts in under a second. Van Haag blinked, put a hand to his throat, and then collapsed to his knees. He gave her one last glare before toppling facedown.

Breathing hard, Susan lowered the blade and looked over at Elijah. He and Hirawa stood close together, face-to-face. Only when Elijah stepped back did she see that he'd run Hirawa through; his bloody sword emerged from Hirawa's back, the red running and mixing with the rain in slow droplets, dripping down to the ground.

Elijah tugged his sword loose and took another step back. Hirawa's eyes glazed over as he collapsed to the side and struck the ground with a wet thud. The rise and fall of Elijah's shoulders revealed how hard he was breathing. Susan retrieved her pistol from the ground, shoved it back into its holster, and began walking towards him. "Nice move with this," she said, hefting the katana.

"Wasn't sure I got the distance right," Elijah said, panting.

"It worked," Susan said, reaching out to take his left arm. A gash ran through the sleeve of his forearm, revealing a shallow cut underneath. She looked it over more closely; nothing vital, so at least he wouldn't bleed out immediately.

"You should keep that," Elijah said. He nodded at the katana in her hand, reached down to Hirawa's body, and plucked the lacquered wooden sheath from his waist. He held it out to Susan. "To the victor and all that… plus it looks good with you."

"A girl's gotta accessorize," she said dryly, sliding the saya through her harness. She scanned the forest around them again. "I lost track of the grenade guys. Pretty sure they're-"

A crumping explosion came from the distance, back towards- "The cabin," said Elijah.

Susan cursed. "Forty-mils and trees don't play well together. They must be trying to draw us out. Doesn't matter if they know about Jenny or not."

Elijah wiped his blade off and put it away. "We'd better move then." Another grenade explosion came from the distance and he started running.

Susan ran to catch up with him, breathing hard as she leapt over fallen branches and assorted foliage. Screw all this jungle – sorry, _forest_ – warfare bullshit. This was just uncivilized, damn it. Firefights really ought to take place in nice, neat locations – preferably with even flooring and thick walls. Roofs were good too, she thought as she swiped her unwounded arm across her face, wiping some of the rain off. She reloaded as they ran, changing out the magazines of her rifle and pistol while weaving between trees.

They ran back towards the cabin and the quarry beyond, aware of the terrible rhythmic grenade detonations. Fortunately, as they got close enough to see it through the trees, the cabin still stood. The grenadiers hadn't been targeting it directly, instead showering the ground around it with grenades. Their car, however, was a different story; it had been reduced to a pile of mangled, smoking scrap metal. The pickup had driven up to the clearing edge, its occupants deciding not to pursue Susan and Elijah into the woods. Not that she could blame them – van Haag and Hirawa had shown the dangers of that.

Instead they'd set up an automatic grenade launcher mount in the bed of the pickup. One of the figures from earlier crewed the beast of a weapon. Angular armor plates surrounded the launcher like shades at a street market.

Susan cursed under her breath and shouldered her rifle. A pair of shots from off to her right sounded as Elijah opened fire; she glanced over at him and got a nod in return. They split, moving in opposite directions to circle the grenade-spewing truck. Susan snapped off a quartet of rounds as she swung left. She saw the grenade launcher swivel towards her. A blur flew over her with a metallic _bang_ and a buzzing whistle. A hasty shot: the assassin hadn't got the range down. _Don't give them the chance._

She rushed towards the truck, firing single shots. The armor plates surrounding the launcher, however, shrugged off the small-caliber rounds; the impacts rang out like strikes against steel targets at an outdoor range. Another grenade whistled past and detonated in the trees beyond.

More movement caught her attention; somebody rounding the engine housing of the truck. Susan shifted her rifle – but not quickly enough.

A sledgehammer blow hit Susan in the chest, knocking her off her feet onto the sodden ground. A groan burst through her lips; the stinging, throbbing pain erupting in her chest suddenly engulfed the world. Susan forced it aside enough to raise her rifle, thumb the selector to automatic, and dump the magazine in one long burst. Most of her bullets went wide in a messy scatter – hardly a surprise given her aim and firearm control, or lack of it.

But it worked well enough that the assassin, a tawny-skinned man, jerked and stumbled. She'd tagged him with several shots – not lethal, but enough for him to sag against the tan, mud-spattered pickup. Then he collapsed as Elijah put a pair of rounds through his head.

The truck-mounted launcher spat yet another grenade, accompanied by a woman's wild laughter. Susan glimpsed Elijah diving aside from the corner of her eye; she fumbled for a rifle magazine with trembling fingers, cursed, and dropped the rifle in favor of snatching her pistol. Squirming back through the muck, she fought to get an angle on the grenadier, firing off several shots that rang off the armor plates.

The launcher started pivoting towards her. At this range, the rounds wouldn't have enough distance to arm – but that wouldn't matter. A forty-mil fired from an automatic grenade launcher would be moving fast enough that a direct hit would be like getting hit with a pneumatic hammer.

Elijah fired another burst to no avail. Sharp metallic impacts sang out through the rain – rounds striking the armor. Susan rolled to her right the barest instant before a smoking grenade struck the mud where she'd been, sending a small geyser of mud through the air. The launcher tracked towards her, and-

A single sharp, resonant screech cut the air, followed by a sharp _crack_ an instant afterwards, and immediately after the echoing report of a high-powered rifle in the distance. The grenade launcher went quiet; from her low angle Susan could see a new, ragged hole that had been punched through the armor surrounding the beastly weapon. The sudden quiet somehow seemed more deafening than any of the fighting that had come before it; just the pitter-pat of the rain and her own harsh, pained breathing.

Elijah was at her side a moment later. Covering the pickup with his bullpup rifle in one hand, he reached down and brushed her coat aside. "Susan," he said, his voice low and tense. She reached up with her free hand and clasped his, pushing herself up to her elbows.

"I'm good," she said after wheezing for a second. She prodded at where it felt like a hammer had hit her torso, felt a trio of hot, deformed bullets flattened against her vest. Susan let her head fall back, tilted her face up to the cool rain. "Okay, maybe good is overstating it. Ow."

He left her for a minute, advancing on the truck with his weapon ready. Elijah looked up over the edge of the flatbed, then hurried back over to where she lay. He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, cradling her up and helping her to her feet. "That wasn't me," he said quietly.

Right on cue her phone started buzzing. It took Susan a moment to realize it, her senses numbed and tingling with pain and shock. Draping an arm around Elijah and leaning against him, she fished the device out. "Yeah?"

"Still alive?" came a familiar woman's voice.

"Lisa?" Susan breathed in and glanced around, the surprise overriding the pain for the moment. She looked over at the truck and the holed armor plate. "Was that you?"

"Nothing like a good penetrator."

"Marx?" Elijah asked. "She's here too?"

"Tell lover boy I'd appreciate it if he held his fire. I'll come down to the cabin."

Susan shifted against Elijah. "Lisa, you-"

"You guys made a hell of a mess on that road, by the way. I'm impressed."

"Why-" Susan coughed. "Why are you here, Lisa?"

"What? A girl can't keep an eye on her friends? Look what you get into when I'm not around. See you in a bit," Marx said, and cut the connection.

"Let's get you inside," Elijah murmured in her ear, and started shuffling towards the cabin.

"Lisa's coming," Susan said, and nodded at the pickup. "Her shot."

"She's watching out for us?"

"Seems like it."

"Can we trust her?"

"She hasn't shot us yet," said Susan.

"Good point. Come on." Elijah tugged her forwards, half-carrying and half-dragging.

Susan forced herself to put one foot before another. She chuckled, then winced and groaned. "Okay, bad idea."

"Just take it easy," he said.

"Another week of this. Yeah, no problem."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Elijah practically kicked the cabin door in, carrying Susan. She felt strong enough to walk unassisted now, but having somebody to lean on at the moment felt too good to pass up. He guided her to the couch in the common room and she sank down with a gasp. Susan realized her hands were numb from the wet and cold outside. She still gripped her pistol and swung over to cover the door, shivering all the while.

"Jenny!" he called. "Are you alright?"

"Is it over?" came the muffled response through the floorboards.

"For now! I need your help!"

Susan heard a clatter from the hidden armory and the trapdoor swung open, impacting against the floor with a thud. Jenny came into the common room a moment later, AK muzzle preceding her. Susan grinned at that; the young woman might have had her world upended, but she seemed to be taking it in stride with admirable aplomb. Her willingness to pick up a weapon to defend herself was a good sign. Jenny looked down at her with wide eyes and pale face. "Ohmygod."

Elijah, kneeling beside Susan, looked over at his cousin. "There's a trauma kit in the security room. Get it."

To her further credit Jenny didn't freeze. She nodded once and took off. Elijah helped Susan shrug her coat off, tossing it aside in a muddy, dripping mess. Shame; she'd liked that coat. Hirawa's former sword joined it on the floor. He popped the front clasps of her carry harness and brushed them aside. Then he tore her shirt open down the center and winced. "That bad, huh?" said Susan.

Elijah reached out and ran his fingertips over her ballistic vest. She didn't feel it through the layers of Kevlar and ceramic, but she felt the tug as he pulled the mashed bullets from the vest one by one with swift motions. He dropped them to the ground and started undoing the straps.

"Seems like we're always tearing each other's clothes off when one of us gets shot," she said, grinning crookedly.

Elijah glanced up at her face. "Let's not make the getting shot part a habit." He rose to his feet, brushed her wet hair aside, and kissed her forehead.

"You're bleeding, too," said Susan as she pulled the vest over her head with one hand. With her other she reached out and took his left wrist, turning his arm to look at the cut.

"I've had worse," he said.

Footsteps announced Jenny's return as she ran from the rooms, clutching the oversized medical kit in her arms. "Holy shit," she said. "What happened?"

"People came to kill us," said Susan.

"Yeah, I got that part. Please tell me the other guys look worse."

"Can confirm," Elijah said. He nodded at the kit, holding one hand out. "Give it here."

Jenny passed it over and he opened it before running his fingertips over her torso. Susan hissed at the throb and ache, but the fact that there was no grinding or shooting pain-

"Bruised," he said. "Nothing broken." Elijah drew out an ice pack from the kit, scrunched it up to activate it, and passed it to Jenny before turning back to the kit. "Hold that against the bruise."

Susan groaned as Jenny pressed the ice pack to her skin; the cold set off a storm of sensation in her nerve endings but she forced herself to hold still. Elijah peeled back the torn sleeve from the gash across her arm and wrapped a length of quick-clotting combat gauze around the wound.

"You guys do stuff like this often?" Jenny asked as he repeated the procedure for his own wounded arm.

"Often enough," Susan said through clenched teeth. "Don't last long if you can't."

"You guys have crazy lives, have I mentioned that?"

"Well, you're not wrong," said Elijah, tying off the gauze.

"Thanks," Susan said, taking the ice pack from Jenny. She pressed the cold plastic pouch against the bruise mottling her skin. That had been uncomfortably close.

"Okay," Jenny said. "What else can I do? Are there more… assassins coming?"

"Just the one for now," came a voice from the open doorway. Jenny yelped and spun; Lisa Marx stood just beyond the frame. She wore a long, single-piece dress with a hooded, fur-lined coat over it all. Lisa carried a bolt-action bullpup sniper rifle with an extra magazine tucked in front of the trigger guard. Its length and bulk seemed almost oversized in her arms, but she held it slung low with its muzzle down and her arms crossed over the stock. The smirk on her face never left as she looked Jenny over.

"Take it easy," Susan said as Jenny scooted back. "She's friendly. Or something like it."

"Ouch," said Lisa, grinning. "That's hurtful." She stepped indoors and shrugged. "Ah, not really."

Susan smiled back. "Why are you dressed like that? What are you doing here?"

"I _was_ getting ready for a night out on town. Then that Two Dragon guy and van Haag got all fired up and stormed off in a hurry. Mad bomber couple got in on it too. Figured something was up, turned out I was right."

Elijah stood up, extended a hand towards Lisa. "Thanks for the save."

She regarded him for a moment, then grinned lopsidedly. "My pleasure. Never known Susan to stay out of trouble, but _this_ is kind of pushing it. And what the hell was that mess in Berkeley? Thought you two were trying to go apostate, to get out."

Jenny held up a tentative hand. "That, um, that would be because of me."

"And who are you, cutie?"

"My cousin," Elijah said. "Hirawa went after her to try to get to us."

"Dick move," Lisa said. She turned towards the woods. "Any survivors?"

"No," said Susan. Her voice came out strangely, and it took a second for her to realize that was because her teeth were chattering. Actually, her whole body was shivering.

"Come on," Elijah said, lifting her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist as he drew her towards the rooms. "Let's get you warmed up."

Jenny turned red. "While she has bruised ribs? Isn't that a bit too strenuous?"

"I meant a hot bath," he said, arching an eyebrow at his cousin while Lisa burst into laughter.

"Oh!" Jenny blushed even harder. "I, uh…"

"Go on," Marx said. "I'll keep an eye out here."

"Thank you," said Elijah.

Lisa nodded to Susan. "Like I said, I owe her."

* * *

About ten minutes in the bathtub full of steaming water made Susan feel more or less human again. She'd already drained the initial batch of muddy, grimy water and now just soaked in fresh, hot water. The warmth made breathing against her bruised ribs significantly easier and drove the chill from her bones. She glanced down at the pile of wet clothes on the floor just as Elijah cracked the small bathroom's door open. "How is it?" he asked gently.

"Not bad. Still missing something, though."

"What is it?" He stuck his head in, looking concerned. His hair and clothes looked just as soaked from the rain and battle outside; his skin looked paler than usual. "What do you need?"

Susan reached her bandaged arm, the one she'd kept out of the tub, towards him. "You."

Elijah pursed his lips. "About that strenuous activity…"

"I'm not asking you to shag me senseless," Susan said. "Just… join me. You're cold and soaked, and I want your company."

"Hard to say no to that."

Susan scooted in the tub as Elijah removed his soaked clothes. She drained out some of the water, just enough so it wouldn't overflow. He climbed in behind her and sank down with an exhausted, pleased groan, stretching his legs out around hers. It wasn't a large tub and the fit proved tight, but she didn't mind that at all. Elijah wrapped his arms around her as Susan leaned back against his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. She let out a pleased purr, reveling in the warmth. Objectively, she knew, the water was a higher temperature than Elijah's body – but the feel of his skin, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, and the quiet whisper of his breath – she'd trade that for nothing else.

It wasn't about sex or eroticism right then. The intimacy and comfort was something wholly unlike anything else she'd experienced in a long, long time. _If only this could never end_ , Susan thought. Elijah had taken care in his embrace to be gentle with her bruised ribs. His hands, resting gently against her skin, felt so… right. She clasped the hand of his bandaged arm with her own, holding their limbs up and out of the gently steaming water. "To a new life," she said dryly.

"I suppose it was never going to be that easy," Elijah said.

"Probably not. Still, worth it."

He kissed her cheek softly from behind and she leaned back again, resting with her eyes closed for several minutes.

Then she raised her head. "Lisa's not making trouble, is she?"

"Marx? Last I checked, she was chatting with Jenny. Why? Does she make trouble?"

"Only when she gets bored," Susan said. "Which is frequently."

He chuckled. "More trouble than you create?"

"You like my trouble. Admit it."

"That is true."

She sighed. "I'd just rather not drag her into all this. The goal, after all, is to get _out_."

"Well, she can make her own decisions. I'm just glad she was there to take that shot."

"So am I," Susan admitted. "And you're okay with Jenny spending time with her?"

"She can make her own decisions too."

"Oh, brave man."

He shifted. "What? Why?"

"Nothing. Just… Marx will be Marx."

"You are not reassuring me here."

"I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Because _those_ words have _never_ backfired before."

"Hush." Susan turned around in the tub, which took a fair amount of effort in its confines, and pressed up against him. The tips of their noses almost touching, she looked into his eyes and smiled.

"About that strenuous activity," Elijah said hesitantly. "I don't want to hurt you."

She leaned in, ever so fractionally, and kissed him softly. "So we'll go slowly," she whispered against his mouth.

"You are very hard to refuse." He lifted an eyebrow. "We're also not alone."

She kissed him again, and knew she had him when Elijah's hands drifted down her body. "We'll be quiet."

* * *

"By the way," Lisa said to her in the kitchen later that afternoon, "that wasn't quiet at all."

Susan felt the heat creeping up her cheeks as she glanced towards the door. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The rain had finally stopped a bit while they were in the bath. Elijah had headed out after getting dressed, to deal with the cars and bodies. One of the benefits of being next to an old quarry, Susan thought: an easy disposal site. It was almost as neat and self-contained as a call to the cleaners.

"No?" Marx looked innocent for a moment, then smirked and set the mug in her hands down on the table. She bit her lower lip and moaned sensuously. "Ohh. Right there. Keep going. Keep going."

It was, Susan had to concede, a pretty close facsimile of her own voice. "How the hell did you hear that?" she demanded.

"Like I said, you really weren't as quiet as you thought."

"Marx, so help me, I will-"

"Hey, hey." Lisa patted the air in a placating gesture. "Not judging. I mean, that's some great physical therapy there. It's just… when'd you turn into such a horndog? You were always such a prude before."

"I wasn't a _prude_ ," said Susan.

"Oh please," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. "You were all work and no play."

"Maybe a little," she admitted. "I just… never thought I'd feel this way about somebody."

"You're gonna make me jealous."

"I never thought it'd be somebody from this world either," Susan said.

"Why not?" Jenny chimed in from she'd been leaning against the kitchen counter in the corner. "It makes sense, doesn't it? You'd have shared experiences, maybe similar worldviews?"

"That's usually an issue in our line of work. Getting close to another… professional is usually a bad idea."

"Why's that?"

"Business," Lisa said. "You can find yourself working competing contracts at the drop of a hat. Too much risk."

"And everyone you meet is a potential target," Susan added. "Not typically a good foundation for relationships."

"Speak for yourself," said Lisa. "Danger makes sex _fun_."

"Those aren't necessarily one and the same, Lisa."

"Eh, semantics. Regardless, you two seem keen on making it work." Marx paused, took a sip of her tea. "Or at least, getting every last orgasm possible out of each other," she said with a grin and a wink at Jenny. "Same difference, right?"

Elijah's cousin looked away, blushing furiously. "It certainly sounded like you were having fun," she muttered.

Susan buried her face in her hands for a moment. "We are not having this conversation."

"What a shame," said Lisa. She stood and stretched, a motion which showed off the lines of her body through her dress – and one which Jenny definitely noticed, Susan saw. "So, Jenny says this is an Exodus safehouse. I won't stick around, then."

"You have something against them?"

"Not personally. I'd just as soon keep out of their way, though. No reason to get entangled and all that." She shrugged. "Besides, didn't bring a change of clothes. Not that I wouldn't love to stick around, but…"

"Right," said Susan, smiling. "You and commitments."

"Hardly a commitment we're talking about here," Marx replied. "It's only, what? A couple of days? Exodus will have a team here before too long, if I know them."

"Yeah."

"And what about her?" Lisa nodded towards Jenny. "You dragged the poor girl out of her life without even a spare set of panties." Her grin grew as Jenny blushed again. "You should let me take her; I've got some things that should fit. Look good, too."

"I don't even want to know," said Susan. She turned to Jenny. "It's not that long, anyways. Once the contracts expire, you can probably return to the way things were before if you keep your head down. It may take a bit to put things back together, but-"

"What if I don't want it to?" Jenny said. "For things to go back to the way they were?"

Susan frowned. "You… What?"

"It's not like I enjoy people shooting at me," Jenny said quickly.

"We call that going kinetic," Lisa interjected.

"Marx," Susan said, shooting a glare at the other assassin. "You're not helping."

"This is not my fault," Lisa said, flicking a hand at Jenny. "Definitely not."

Susan leaned back, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. She turned back to Jenny, who was still leaning against the counter, looking more sheepish than ever. Susan nodded at an empty chair at the table. "Sit."

"Ooh," Lisa said. "I know that tone."

"You stay out of this."

"Will you punish me if I promise to be bad?"

"Marx…"

"Kidding, kidding." Lisa chuckled as Jenny came over and slid into the seat. "Besides, I left the cuffs at home."

Susan shook her head and sighed. "Explain," she said to Jenny.

"Well, like I said, I'm not enjoying the part where people are trying to kill us," the young woman said, her voice increasing in speed with every word. "At least, I don't _think_ I am. But… it _is_ a lot more exciting than camping out in the lab. Plus there's the hotel and the cars and the etiquette and Miss Marx showed me those coins you used and everything's so glamorous."

"Lisa…"

"She was curious!" Marx said. "And I'm always keen to help a girl learn."

"The glamor is a mask," Susan said. "It's a façade, a veneer over an ugly reality."

"You're being a little harsh." Lisa took another sip of her tea. "It's also part of a system, one that keeps things from being even uglier. The trappings do have a purpose."

"A sinister one, if you think about it. Letting us pretend we're civilized about the things we do?"

"I'm not debating that. I'm just saying that things would be even worse without it."

"Look, I get it," Jenny broke in. "Bloodshed bad. It's just… you and _tang ge_ seem to having the time of your lives whenever things _go kinetic_ or whatever the hell you call it.

"Has it occurred to you that your cousin and I might be incredibly screwed up people?" Susan said dryly.

"Repeatedly. But then… who _isn't_ screwed up in some way, right?"

"That's… not a good reason."

"I know!" Jenny scrubbed one hand over her face. "I just- This is all so _exciting_. I mean, I don't know if that's _good_ , but…"

"So go bungie jumping or skydiving," Susan said with a sigh. "You don't need to get involved in all this. You don't want to. This world has a tendency to swallow people and chew them down to nothing."

"You're being dramatic," Lisa said.

"Am I? How many of us get to retire? How many die peacefully?"

"Nobody dies in peace. It's what you get out of life that matters, Rizzi."

Susan scowled. "You. Are not. Helping."

"I'm _not_ saying I want to run off and be an assassin," Jenny said. "I'm just enjoying the excitement while it lasts."

"As long as it ends."

Jenny looked over at Susan for a long moment, a half-smile on her face. "You're really not what I would have expected from a professional hitwoman."

" _Ex_ -hitwoman."

"You're not out yet," said Marx. "Contract's still active."

"I'm aware of that, thanks." Susan returned Lisa's grin and turned back to Jenny. "What _were_ you expecting?"

Jenny shrugged at that. "I dunno, I guess somebody a little more… ruthless? Less caring, I suppose."

"That's Susan here," Lisa said with another laugh. "The big softie; always picky about the contracts and the targets and the collateral damage."

"It doesn't change what I've done," Susan said quietly.

"I'm not judging," said Jenny. "You did save my life. Eli didn't drag you into it, did he?"

She smiled. "He tried to keep me out of it."

"He did? Of course he did. Let me guess: he didn't want to impose?"

"Something like that," Susan said.

"Sounds like him," Jenny said. She stared at Susan, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. "So you… volunteered to come get me?"

Susan nodded.

"Softie," said Lisa.

"I'll accept that." Susan wrapped her hands around her own mug, feeling the heat of the tea inside against her palms.

"You will?" Surprise laced Lisa's voice, and she narrowed her eyes. "What happened to you?"

"I fell in love."

"You really are lost to the fold, aren't you?" Lisa stared at her for a moment, tilted her head. "No, I don't believe it. The stuff I've seen you do; you've got a talent for this, Rizzi. You're a fighter. Walk away from all this, fine. It's not gonna change who you are."

"It doesn't have to." The three ladies jumped as Elijah's voice came from the doorway. _Stars_ , thought Susan, _he can certainly move quietly._ "Susan's fine just the way she is."

"How sweet," said Lisa. She gave Elijah a once-over; his pants were dirty and muddy. "Dealt with the bodies, did you?"

Elijah nodded as he headed past them towards the bathroom. "Benefits of an old quarry." He paused. "Makes me wonder if it's not an accident this cabin is here."

"And on that cheery thought," Lisa said, standing up, "I believe I'll head out."

"Why?" he asked, pausing. "Do they have reason to be after you?"

"No, but I'm not sure they'd like me rolling up to one of their safehouses without an invitation. If anyone asks, I was never here."

"They're not _that_ scary," Elijah said. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

"I'd rather not push things."

"Since when?" said Susan, smirking.

"Quiet, you."

Elijah nodded. "I'd shake your hand, but…" He gestured at his mud-spattered clothes. "You probably don't want to." He looked at Lisa, cupped one hand over the other before his chest, and gave her a bow. "Thank you, Marx. We're in your debt."

"I'll track you guys down later," she said, then grinned. "Not like that."

He nodded again. "I look forward to it."

Lisa stepped over and pulled Susan into a gentle hug. "Good luck," she said. "With everything."

"Thanks, Lisa." Susan smiled at the other woman. "Whatever happens, you'll always be welcome. Take care of yourself."

"Always do." Marx threw on her coat and gathered up her rifle before heading for the door. She paused, looked back at Jenny. "Call me if you want to have some fun," she said with a wink, then sashayed off.

Elijah looked over at Jenny, who'd gone a particularly vibrant shade of scarlet. "Is there something I should know about?"

* * *

The Exodus Railroad team showed up a day later. Two cars appeared in the dead of night, their blocky forms gray and grainy in the monitors as they approached the cameras covering the road. "How do we know that's Exodus?" Susan said as she sat up on the couch.

On the screen, the lead car flashed its lights in a brief pattern. "That's it," Elijah said, pointing. "An Exodus code for approach."

Susan checked her pistol. "You'll forgive me if I'm still cautious about it."

"I don't blame you at all."

They waited for the cars to arrive in the common room, peering out the doorway in silence. Susan had her rifle loaded and ready even as she favored her torso where she'd taken the bullets. Hopefully the people approaching were actually from the Railroad; she wasn't in any condition for a fight.

The lights heralded the arrival of the small convoy, beacons in the night as they drove through the clearing up to the cabin. Susan tensed as they ground to a halt before the door. She clutched her rifle as the sound of opening car doors drifted through the night. The glare from the headlights kept them from seeing the occupants.

A moment passed, and then a voice like rumbling gravel sounded from beside the lead car. "Mister Wu?"

Elijah glanced at Susan from across the doorway. "Titus," he called. "That you?"

"It is indeed." A form circled the car doors toward the cabin entrance. It was a man, tall and strongly built, with skin the color of black coffee. His shaved head gleamed in the glare of the lights. He nodded at the doorway. "Hiding again, slippery one?"

"There's been a few too many unfriendly guns recently," Elijah said. "Hard to know who to trust."

The man, Titus, let loose a belly laugh that reverberated in the darkness. "A fine jest, coming from one such as yourself."

"You're the one rolling up with a team."

"The world is a dangerous place these days." Titus folded his arms over the stubby, modernized AK slung across his chest. "More so than usual. Your circle's responsible for most of that. The High Table is perturbed about something."

"That's way out of our pay grade," Elijah said.

"Agreed," said Titus. "When giants stir, mortals ought to seek shelter."

"Much like what we're doing. And in that regard… perhaps we should get moving?"

"Are you in a hurry?"

"We've already fought off one group on our tail," Elijah said. "I'd rather not push it."

"We do not answer to you." Titus stepped closer to the doorway. "We have traveled far, interrupted a task of importance. My team needs rest first. We will set out in the morning."

"That may not be a good idea," Susan said from where she covered the approach. "They've already found us once."

"Miss Rizzi, I presume?" Titus said. "It would be a foolish assassin indeed who assaulted this place with a full team to defend it. Now, are you quite finished trying to keep us out of our own property?"

Elijah sighed, stepped into the open, and beckoned towards the inside of the cabin. "It is your place."

"It's more than that," Titus said as he waved his team forward. "You altered the terms of the agreement. It was two people, not three. Such changes take time."

The Exodus team filed into the cabin, a mix of armed individuals in mixed outfits and armor. Susan noticed that several of them were walking wounded; wrappings and bandages around limbs and heads. Evidently they'd come straight from another operation.

The last one in was a slim little young woman, barely more than a girl, with Latina features. A broad smile spread across her face as she entered. "Nice to see you again, Mister Wu."

Elijah's eyes widened. "Camila? Didn't expect I'd ever see you again."

"The Lord meant our paths to cross again," the girl said. "Sometimes things work out."

"Looks like it." Elijah nodded, and looked over to Susan. "This is Camila. You remember that thing I told you about in San Diego?"

"That thing with the Vargas cartel?" Susan said. "That got you on Cuhuillo's worse side?"

"Yeah." He motioned towards the young Exodus fighter. "Camila here was part of the group Vargas was trafficking. She was among those the Railroad team freed."

"Are you pretending you had nothing to do with that?" Camila asked. "You did most of the work, remember?"

"That's not how you described it to me," said Susan. "Being modest, were you?"

"I didn't do _that_ much," Elijah said. But Susan grinned as a hint of a blush crept across his face; the tingle of warmth in her own chest felt… good, right. Comfortable.

"Miss Rizzi?" Camila turned to her and nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Call me Susan," she said.

Camila grinned shyly. "I've heard things… is it true you took out four targets with a single knife one job? In an evening gown?"

"It was three targets," Susan said, "and two knives."

"I see you ended up joining the Railroad," Elijah said.

"Exodus taught me to fight back," Camila said. "Against the monsters of this world. I found my purpose here."

"Admirable," said Susan. "But it's definitely not an easy life you've chosen."

"I did not choose it," Camila replied. "I would have been happy to go to school and learn how to make computers. This life chose me."

"Gotcha." Susan nodded and stepped back, glancing at the rest of the Exodus team as they settled into the safehouse. Some went straight for the rooms and beds, some to the kitchen. Either they were familiar with this location or their safehouses followed a certain template, because they seemed to know right where everything was. She wondered briefly just how large the Exodus Railroad was, if its reach rivaled the Continental's.

She glanced after Camila as the Exodus strike team member moved towards the kitchen. The girl had an intensity to her, a fury that Susan recognized; she remembered her own simmering rage during the year after her brother's death. That drive, that pressure, building up in her soul with seemingly no outlet for it, nothing to make it go away.

Until that first messy, scrappy fight – that kill with pistol and blade.

The one that had drawn her to the Continental's attention.

Susan sighed. Maybe Exodus was different enough. Maybe Camila could skip the years of repressed guilt and angst.

Or maybe not. Maybe that was the ultimate fate of anybody immersing themselves in this demesne. She looked back over to Elijah, who was looking out at the darkness beyond. "Seems like you have some history with Titus. Is this going to be an issue?"

"Titus? No." Elijah chuckled. "He acts all rough, but he's… he watches out for his people. Just don't _call_ him a softie."

"Yeah, that looks like it'll end well." Susan leaned against the doorframe and lowered her voice. "Is he good at what he does?"

"Oh, no concerns there."

"Well, let's hope we don't have to see it in action. It sounds like people have bigger things on their mind these days than us."

Elijah grunted. "That sounds optimistic."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

"Is it like this all the time?" Susan muttered, looking out the car window at the multi-lane freeway packed bumper to bumper with nearly motionless vehicles. The sky was a cloudy gray morass, drizzling water down in a light haze that sprinkled against the glass. The Exodus car in front of them dominated the view from the windshield.

"The rain?" Elijah asked from the other side of the car cabin. "It's what passes for late winter here."

"The traffic." Susan said.

"It's always bad," Jenny said from between them, in the middle back seat. "But it's even worse when there's rain."

"It's a damn parking lot," Susan muttered. Four lanes, and each of them crammed to capacity. "Not a good place to be stuck."

"It's worse than usual," the driver said from up front. A middle-aged man by the name of Sanjay, he drummed the fingers of one hand against the steering wheel in a rhythmic pattern. It had set her on edge for the entire drive, and Susan hated it. It was no fault of Sanjay's, she knew, but that _tap tap tap_ just brought back memories of Marco Fabbro's tics. _He's dead. He doesn't have any power over you._ She forced herself to focus on Sanjay's words. "There are reports of an accident ahead. A flipped car blocking a lane."

"Yeah, that's remarkably inconvenient," she said.

"It happens all the time," Jenny said. "Lots of crappy drivers here."

"I still don't like it. Call me paranoid, but there _are_ people out to get us."

"Oh. You have a point."

"How far out from the airport are we?" Susan asked.

"About twenty minutes normally," Elijah said. "With this traffic though, could be forty minutes depending on where the accident is."

"I don't like the sound of that." Susan glanced around out the windows again. "That car behind to our right. The Toyota?"

"The one that was pulled over on the shoulder a ways back?" Elijah nodded at her. "Yeah, I see it. Got a feeling about that one."

"Exactly."

"I concur," Titus said from the forward passenger seat. "The circumstances are suspicious. Be vigilant." He brought a hand to his throat mic. "White Camry, twenty meters on our five o'clock. Keep an eye on it."

Susan reached down and picked up her rifle from the floor. She unfolded the stock and checked the sight, keeping the gun low; the Exodus car had tinted windows, but still better to avoid waving a firearm around in the open.

Elijah already had his rifle at his shoulder; he'd turned halfway around in his seat and had the short little bullpup leaning against the rear seat. "If anything happens," he said to Jenny, "get down and cover your ears."

Their car inched forward. Each meter felt like crawling through molasses, and the occasional honk sounded from outside as drivers expressed their frustration. Susan kept an eye on the car in question. It had tinted windows as well, the dark panes of glass revealing nothing but beaded droplets of water.

"There's the crash," Sanjay said. "Bloody rubberneckers…"

"And an ambulance on site already," said Jenny. "But it looks like it's just sitting there."

"Ach, not like it could move in this." Sanjay swung their car into another lane. The accident had blocked the two left lanes of the freeway, an overturned minivan cutting across at an angle. Cars funneled into the remaining lanes like grains of sand in an hourglass. "At least it should be better once we get past this."

"Be ready," Titus said. "If anybody's going to try something, it'll be here."

Susan watched the Camry. It paralleled their course; she couldn't tell if that was just the way the traffic forced it, or if it was pacing them deliberately. The silhouette behind the wheel shifted-

"Driver just reached for something," Elijah said calmly.

"I see it," she said, her hand curling around the grip of her rifle.

"Watch your fire," Titus warned, both to them and into his throat mic. "Lots of innocents around. Verify a threat before you engage."

The Camry closed, cutting around an intervening car and ignoring the angry honks. Elijah followed it with his rifle, using the back seat as a rest while Jenny bent down and covered her ears.

"He hasn't done anything yet," Titus said. "Don't be too hasty."

A flicker of light came from up ahead. "Finally," said Sanjay. "Ambulance is getting ready to move. We're almost past. Traffic should get flowing once we're-"

Squealing tires interrupted the Exodus man. The ambulance, its lights flashing, suddenly swung hard across the lanes from beyond the overturned car and plowed into the Exodus car in front of them. It wasn't going particularly fast, but it had enough momentum to shove the SUV into the other lane, sandwiching it between the ambulance and another car. Frantic horns filled the air as Susan popped her car door. Hopping out in the middle of a freeway had _not_ been on her plans, but with all the cars packed nearly motionless that risk seemed a better choice than being stuck in a metal box while people perforated it with gunfire. The cold and damp started seeping into her bones as her feet hit the textured concrete.

Muzzle flares filled the space between the ambulance windshield and the Exodus car windows, the ferocious racket echoing across the freeway. The rear doors of the ambulance flung open and Susan swung her rifle over, tucking its stock into her shoulder as she sighted down the optic and ignored the twinge from her ribs. A lean, dark-haired man swung out, EMT uniform at odds with the sawn-off, pump-action shotgun in his hands. Staying low, he rushed up along the side of the ambulance, raising the gun as he approached the pinned car and-

Susan shot him twice, two rounds transverse through the chest. The man stumbled against the ambulance cabin; she put another round through his head. He dropped, leaving red smears across the surface of the ambulance.

Another man leapt out from the back of the ambulance. She took the fraction of a second to verify that he had a gun in his hands and double-tapped him as well. A pair of suppressed shots sounded from the other side of their car; she recognized the sharp _snap-crack_ of Elijah's weapon. Another shot, then Titus joined her as Susan approached the ambulance. "Clear the back," he said, nodding towards her from over his shouldered weapon. "I'll take the front."

Panicked horns sounded from up and down the freeway. The trapped Exodus car ground its wheels, trying to wriggle free, but the pinning ambulance kept it in place. Susan moved towards the open back, hoping that a car wouldn't try to shove its way past the whole mess and run her over. Another few shots came from Elijah as she rounded the ambulance's rear doors.

Empty.

Susan stepped over the second fallen assassin and thumped the side of the ambulance twice. "Clear!" she shouted to Titus, who had tugged open the driver's door and pulled a bloody mess of a body out. The Exodus team leader dumped the body and climbed in. Keeping one eye on the cars around them, Susan moved up the length of the emergency vehicle and checked the Exodus car. The left side had been buckled inwards but looked otherwise intact. The passenger window had been shot out; Camila's angry face looked through it over the muzzle of a rifle. "You alright?" Susan shouted, and got a thumbs-up in reply. Evidently the Exodus team had been a little quicker on the draw.

Titus threw the ambulance into reverse and backed it up across the left lanes. Susan stepped back, clearing the way for the pinned car to roll free. She half-expected to get buried beneath a flood of panicked cars, but the crowded freeway remained mostly motionless. Well, shootouts tended to have that effect.

The first Exodus car rolled out, pulling away from the crash with a grinding scrape. Titus hopped out of the ambulance, his weapon at the ready. He waved the car onwards. Two more slow, steady shots came from behind, then Elijah yelled, "Clear!"

As the freed car rolled forwards, navigating the less crowded section of freeway past the overturned minivan, the second car eased up. Susan saw Elijah run and clamber into the back; behind him the trailing car they'd spotted sat motionless, windshield perforated with impact holes. A glance around showed that most of the people on the road had ducked down, huddling for what little cover there was in their vehicles. She winced at the sight of a number of lesser collisions; that would be one _hell_ of a traffic nightmare to sort through.

But they needed to be long gone by then.

Their car moved slowly enough that Titus rolled over the hood to the passenger door and hauled himself in. Susan gave the freeway another look as she closed with the car. She tugged the rear door open while it was still moving and climbed in, breathing hard against the shock of the sudden fight.

"Drive," Titus ordered, and Sanjay revved the engine, pulling away from the scene. As the Exodus driver had predicted, the traffic eased up past the bottleneck of the first crash. Their car sped up, swerving through lanes even as Susan held on for dear life. She heard Titus giving orders over his throat mic, and was dimly aware of Jenny on the verge of hyperventilating next to her.

"You okay?" Susan asked, keeping her weapon low but ready.

Jenny took a moment to respond. "Y-Yeah," she said slowly. "Does… does this sort of thing happen often?"

"When there's a contract on us," said Elijah. "Nothing personal."

"Besides Hirawa," Susan said. "And van Haag."

"Okay, that's true." He chuckled softly. "And there's us. Those contracts turned personal too."

Susan laughed. "Different kind of 'personal', but you're not wrong."

Their car swerved, cutting across a lane towards the right as they approached the exit that led to the airport. They weren't going to the San Francisco airport; Exodus had a plane at the San Jose airport. Susan had seen enough airports through the years that they all seemed similar; this one seemed little different. They followed the first, battered car across an overpass towards the turn-off to the airport.

They didn't go to any of the large terminals. Instead the two cars circled around the perimeter road until they came to a smaller hangar on the outskirts, where an old, propeller-driven cargo plane sat waiting. The convoy pulled up to the hangar edge. "This is it," Titus said.

"Really?" Jenny said. "I think I'd rather take my chances with people pointing guns at us."

The Exodus team leader laughed boisterously. "It's not that bad. Only threatens to fall out of the sky once every other flight!"

"Very funny." Jenny frowned. "You _are_ joking, right?"

"OF course." Titus climbed out of the car and grinned at the back seat. "That thing may not look like much, but it'll get us where we need to go."

"That isn't reassuring."

"It should be," Elijah said as he headed towards the trunk of their car and picked up their cases. "Don't worry; Exodus takes care of their stuff. Ask any of them. I'm sure they've got stories of how Titus makes them clean their gear."

Titus grinned, his teeth gleaming against his dark skin. "As if you and Miss Rizzi don't maintain your equipment painstakingly?"

"Oh, but we make sure our things also look pretty," Susan said, scanning their surroundings as she held her rifle against her chest.

Titus laughed again. "Ah, yes. Appearances. Your side of the table does put so much stock upon that."

"Not our side for much longer," said Susan. She gave the airport another look, then backed towards the open rear cargo hatch of the plane. About half the space was filled with boxes and crates atop pallets, strapped down and secured with professional thoroughness. The Exodus team was filing into the rear hold, moving with a swiftness and familiarity that testified to their experience with situations like this. She met Elijah halfway there, took one of her bags from him as she made for the ramp.

"We will see," Titus said. "Repentance is no easy matter, and it is more often a marathon than a sprint."

Susan paused. "Repentance?" she echoed.

"Ah, I do not mean to preach at you," Titus said as he strolled towards the plane alongside her. "I was not speaking in religious terms. I mean it in the sense of the old Greek idea, of changing one's mind and way of thinking."

"Some habits die hard," Elijah said as he passed them.

"Indeed they do. We are individuals of bloody hands. Such things leave their marks upon souls." Titus looked wistful for a moment, squinting into the distance at a glimmer of a rainbow peeking through the clouds. "So, tempting as it is to try to recruit the two of you… I do wish you the best in finding some kind of peace together. Such a thing is rare enough that it ought to be treasured."

She didn't know what to say to that. Titus gave her a solemn nod and proceeded into the depths of the plane, speaking quietly to his team members as he passed them. Susan paused at the top of the ramp, glancing around at the outside again. The main terminals weren't visible from this angle, but the noise of jet engines sounded a constant racket. She looked out at the rainbow in the distance. _So, this is really happening._

Elijah stepped over to her side from where he'd secured some of their things. Susan reached a hand out and entwined their fingers. She laughed softly. "Run away with me?"

"Anywhere," he said.

* * *

The plane took off with a buzzing roar of its propellers. In the hold, Susan leaned her head back against the vibrating fuselage and breathed out. She'd half-expected them to be detained by the authorities, or for another attempt on their lives. In truth, this was further than she'd thought they'd get. She looked over at Elijah and smiled. He returned it with a tired grin, and that sensation filled her again. Like a whirlwind of flame, coiling within her chest in that paradoxical mixture of euphoria, anxiety, and contentment.

Titus came into the hold from the cockpit once the plane had leveled out. "We'll be out of country in a few hours," he said over the drone of the engines. "We'll land at an Exodus holding in… elsewhere."

"Secret base, huh?" Susan said.

"The fewer people know the locations of such, the more secure they are," Titus replied. "From there, we can relocate you to somewhere else in the world. Somewhere quiet, perhaps, though such a place is fast becoming rare."

"Thanks, Titus," Elijah said. "We owe you."

"Yes," said Titus, "you do." He lifted a hand before they could respond. "However, the Exodus Railroad also owes you a prior debt. Enough of one that certain members in positions of leadership were moved by your request for aid. So for now, let us say the scales are even."

"Thank you," said Susan.

Of course, there was that _for now._

She watched as Titus rejoined his team, where Camila and several others had started a card game around one of the secured crates, using it as an impromptu table. He laughed heartily as they dealt him in. Camila waved Jenny over; the young Chinese woman crossed the crowded hold and sat down, a trepid yet excited half-smile on her face. Susan stared for a moment. As young as Jenny seemed, Camila was even younger.

Far too young to be waging a war in the shadows, to be scrambling around from safehouse to safehouse, conflict to conflict. Still, it was a better fate than getting sold off as a sex slave. Camila had that ferocity to her, a gleam in her eyes: an edge that came from the terrible knowledge of the dark corners of the world. Jenny, in contrast, had nothing like that in her gaze.

 _How long will that last?_ Susan wondered. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. _Peace._ And not just the absence of people shooting at them – but a personal, inner peace. The idea seemed so elusive, so ephemeral. Out of her reach? Maybe. Hell, most likely. But maybe there was still hope.

"That look on your face," Elijah said, leaning in to be heard over the engines. "Are you wondering who we are and what we're going to do now?"

She looked over at him. "How did you…"

"Educated guess," he said. "Also, I've been wondering about that myself. I don't have any answers, I'm afraid."

"S'okay," Susan said. "We can find answers together."

Elijah took her hand and brought it to his lips, planting a slow kiss across her knuckles. "I never thought I'd know somebody like you. You're far better than I deserve."

"You mean a messed-up assassin on the run?" Susan smiled. "Boy, I'd hate to see what you think you _do_ deserve."

"I mean a clever, deadly woman with a surprising heart and great guns."

Susan lifted an eyebrow.

Elijah paused. "That- I meant that literally," he said. "You have impeccable taste in firearms."

She laughed. "Right."

"Honest!"

Another laugh. "Sure, sure."

"Mind you," he added, "if you _did_ want to take that as a compliment to certain anatomical features, there is certainly appreciation there."

Susan laughed again. "Should I be flattered or insulted?"

Elijah looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll settle for not having said firearms turned against me?"

"I'll see what I can do," Susan said dryly. Then she leaned in. "I can't promise that I won't ever hurt you, though. I'm- I don't know if I'm any good at this."

"Neither am I." He looked back at her, a sober look in his eyes. "I'm pretty sure that's part of the deal with relationships. They're like knife fights, right? Intimate, messy, and nobody's walking away from one unscathed."

"And it means getting close enough to hurt and be hurt." She leaned in a bit closer, resting her head against his, and closed her eyes. "So, you know I'm going to mess up at some point."

"I do. And I'm going to mess up too." Elijah brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and kissed her brow. "I've been in a lot of fights, Susan. This one's worthwhile – _you're_ worthwhile."

"Flatterer," she murmured. "But I'm with you. All the way."

"All the way," he echoed. "And while we're not exactly free yet-"

"We're close."

"We are." Elijah clasped her hands in his and turned a hopeful smile towards her. "So, what next?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

 **Some time later…**

Charon inclined his head in a single nod as he set the phone back in its cradle. "Management will see you. The roof. Go on up."

"Thanks." The woman nodded. She strolled through the Continental to the elevators and rode up to the top floor, then got out and headed to the stairs.

A pair of men standing at the staircase door nodded to her. The woman halted between them and held her arms up as one patted her down with swift and professional intent. He nodded to the other, who opened the door and held it open. She walked through and climbed up to the roof.

The Continental was far from the tallest building in Manhattan, but it was still tall enough that the sounds of the city streets below were muted. Something akin to a small garden had been set up on the roof, offsetting the stone of their surroundings. A table and several seats stood at one side, where a man sat, going through a thick, leather-bound tome in the crisp autumn air.

The woman crossed the roof and sat down opposite the man when he looked up and nodded to the seat. "Sir," she said. "If I may be so blunt… you look exhausted."

"Time and toil take their toll upon us all," said Winston, setting the tome down on the table.

"And the chaos with the High Table has nothing to do with it?"

"I did warn them about going after John Wick," he said mildly. "Even shared the devil's own message."

"What'd he say? That'd he'd kill them all?"

"Precisely." Winston inclined his head towards her. "As you are before me now, I infer that you did not pursue that particular contract."

"I'm crazy, not stupid."

"As you say," Winston said, chuckling. "So then, what can I do for you, Miss Marx?"

Lisa Marx sat forward and placed her clasped hands on the table. "Susan Rizzi."

Winston raised an eyebrow fractionally. "What of her?" he asked, his voice carrying a slight tone of warning. "She's retired – gone apostate, as it were."

"Oh, I'm aware." Marx grinned and drew an envelope from her jacket pocket. "Susan asked me to give this to you." She leaned forward and held the envelope towards the Continental's master.

Winston stared at the envelope for a moment before reaching out and taking it. He broke the wax seal and tugged out a folded letter. Marx shrugged when he gave her a questioning glance.

Unfolding the letter, Winston read it over in silence while Marx waited. When he'd finished Winston folded it back up and set it down on the table.

"I didn't know Susan was on correspondence terms with you," Marx said.

Winston grunted. "This is hardly a regular occurrence. It seems Miss Rizzi perceived some kind of debt… much like the one you professed to owe her."

Lisa grew very still.

"Perhaps that's why she entrusted you to deliver such a letter."

"Or maybe the postal service where they live just kinda sucks."

"I wouldn't know," said Winston, a twinkle in his eye. "Regardless, I appreciate you bringing this to me."

"Great. Thanks for seeing me." Marx began to rise.

"I trust it's not too much of an assumption that you'll see Miss Rizzi and Mister Wu again?"

She paused. "What makes you say that?"

"The young lady accompanying you, for one." Winston gave her a little half-smile. "What does Mister Wu think of you gallivanting around with his cousin?"

"He knows better than to ask for details," Marx said with a wicked grin. "As to what he thinks: well, she makes her own decisions."

"Indeed she does," Winston said, chuckling.

"Hell, Susan asked her to get a letter to your bartender. They're aware. They respect Jenny's choices."

"Hmm." Winston nodded as Lisa rose to her feet. "I notice you didn't quite answer my question."

Marx sighed. "Not much gets past you, eh?"

Winston spread his hands and glanced around at their surroundings.

Marx took the hint. "Touché." She nodded. "Yes, I will see them again. Why? Are you going to say they're not out enough? They're not doing business – _our_ business, I mean. They-"

"Nothing like that," Winston said with a shake of his head. "No, I would request you convey my well-wishes to the couple."

"Really?"

"You find it that surprising?"

"A little," Marx said. "Didn't figure you for such… sentimentality."

Winston gave her that enigmatic little half-smile again. "Oh?"

"They left the flock, right? Not your demesne anymore."

"I shan't argue that," said Winston. "Merely ask your indulgence in a matter of whimsy."

"Is that what this is?"

"Do you need it be anything else?" Winston asked, his tone a touch cooler.

Marx went even paler than usual. She stiffened. "What if I'm seeking reassurance that it's nothing _but_ that?"

"Loyalty to an erstwhile comrade, is it? Admirable. It's such a disappointingly rare trait in professionals of your generation." Winston nodded once. "Very well, if such reassurance is what you seek, then I am giving it now. And you should know the value of my assurances."

"There is that." Marx half-nodded, half-bowed. "Alright, I'll convey your message. I'm sure Susan will get a kick out of it."

"My thanks," Winston said.

Marx started walking away, then paused and turned back. "Why does this matter to you? Why do you care? They didn't go into detail, but it's clear you helped Susan and Elijah in some way."

"Because I deemed it so." Winston folded his hands together. "Consider, Miss Marx, just how much _choice_ is available to any of us. From a member of the High Table to an assistant chef in the Continental, from a cleaner disposing of bodies to the one who put the bullets in that body, ours is a world of rules and traditions. To have it be otherwise is to have the whole thing spin off the axis and into chaos. You understand this."

"I'm aware."

"Then you're aware that ours is not a domain of such things as compassion or mercy or, indeed, love."

"Alright, I won't dispute that. But why does that matter?"

"Which is more difficult, Miss Marx? To press a trigger, or to love somebody?"

Marx crossed her arms and smirked. "You might be asking the wrong person."

"On the contrary," Winston said. "The fact that you walk in this line of employment makes the question rather more relevant to you than many others."

Marx flipped her hand up in the manner of a fencer acknowledging a hit. "And your point?"

"Miss Rizzi and Mister Wu _chose_ ," said Winston. "They made decisions that rather complicated their lives. They discarded one code in favor of one even more… arduous."

"So, you just enjoy an underdog story?"

Winston's smile hid more than it revealed. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps I respect the decision they made together. Perhaps I was merely bored at the moment and wanted to see what they would do. Perhaps all of those, perhaps none of those."

"Fine, fine," Lisa said, returning the smile. "Keep your secrets."

"Indeed I shall," he said, lifting his brow fractionally. "Thank you, Miss Marx."

His tone made it clear the conversation was over.

Lisa Marx inclined her head and walked away. She grinned to herself as she approached the door leading downwards; Susan and Elijah would undoubtedly be glad to hear of Winston's well-wishes. Surprised, most likely, but certainly glad. Maybe next time they'd send along one of Susan's pastries – wouldn't _that_ be something? Lisa decided she'd suggest it, just to see if it would get a reaction out of the Continental's enigmatic ruler. But that would come later. She'd promised to show Jenny a good time, and, well, they didn't come much better than the Continental.

* * *

Behind her, Winston also smiled briefly to himself as Marx disappeared through the doorway. He picked up the letter and tucked it into the jacket pocket of his suit before looking up and out, across towards the city skyline. So Rizzi and Wu had crossed through one crucible and emerged, like disparate metals, alloyed into something stronger. Maybe they could find some semblance of peace and contentment on the other side – they certainly seemed to have started well in that regard, if Rizzi's letter was anything to go by.

But then, so had John Wick, once.

And look how that had turned out. Winston sighed, looking out again at the city skyline. There had been enough chaos and turmoil recently. But the reality of their world was that it endured. It persisted. And it would continue to do so, regardless of their presence or absence. Perhaps the two former assassins could find their own path on the outside after all. The head of the Continental smiled wistfully, then straightened his jacket and rose to his feet. Enough self-indulgence for the moment.

Life went on.


End file.
